Not shutting my heart

Mental illness is a fact in my world. It is a fact as much as being a woman, owning a cat, and balancing two jobs. I did not chose this fact, but I am learning to live with it. I exercise, feed myself, schedule doctors visits, take my medication, laugh, love, and grow. There will be some things I chose to avoid because of my mental illness. I requested accommodation this week at work because of it. If I don't feel safe, there's no way I am going to open up. I may end up in a puddle on the floor in conflict situations. There are days that getting out of bed is an impossible task.

And this makes dating hard. It is hard on my partner because a discussion can turn into an all out melt down on my part in which I clam up entirely and am unable to speak. Or, I might cry. Or, I might walk away entirely, unable to have the conversation because I can't think past how I feel in the moment. It's not something I am proud of, but it is a reality of my life. I often take things to negative extremes. My family knows this about me and has found a way to love me anyways. My friends have fought through my illness with me and have helped me to chose life when it's gotten so painful I wanted to die. And boyfriends? Well, that's something I haven't mastered yet.

I have hurt a lot of beautiful boys along the way. I believe in the underdog, the champion waiting to grow his wings and soar above life's obstacles. The problem is, I often pick men who haven't developed their wings yet, and when the obstacles come, they get bruised and hurt. It's my own fault. I am not normal. It takes a lot to be able to deal with life and cope with someone else's mental illness with grace. It's asking a lot, and I know not everyone is up to the task. There are days I don't want anyone to see me because I don't want to hurt them. There are days when I feel like I could conquer the whole world given the right pair of shoes. And there are days when I am content to lead a quiet, peaceful existence away from the public eye, happy in my own skin.

I can't stop the flashbacks, the way I respond to conflict, or the days of slipping into the pit of despair. I can learn and employ coping skills to make my bouts of PTSD and Clinical Depression less severe. I don't want to be with anyone who can't accept this part of my life. I do want it to end, but I can't promise that it will. I need to be loved and accepted for all of me. This is part of me right now. I have had to fight like hell to accept it and learn how to start to deal with it. But I'm not afraid of it anymore, even as I fall apart because of it. I have a name for it now. And one day I hope to find freedom from it. For now, I chose to live a good life in spite of it, even if that's a single life.