Seeing What Can't Be Seen

• Wake up.
• Shower, dress and eat.
• Get the kids off to school
• Go walking/go to work.
• Come home. 
• Make lunch.
• Clean, read, or relax.
• Greet the kids.
• Make supper.
• Clean up, help with homework, play a game, or watch a show.
• Get kids bathed and in bed.
• Spend time with my husband.
• Take my medications.
• Go to bed. 

 It looks like an ordinary day. One that might resemble any number of people's days. It's a common pattern and it follows my routine, keeping up my daily maintenance. It looks normal enough... but maybe that's one of the biggest problems that sufferers of mental illness face; when things appear normal. 

Every day I try to follow this routine, it works for me and it allows me to continue on, to function through everything that is going on inside of me. Because of this, I appear to the outside world as though I'm always doing okay... even to those who know me, my husband for example, they think that things are fine. 

Today they are. 

But it's because there is so much going on that can't be seen. The constant struggle, the worry over what could happen, the terrifying fear that I will relapse and become drowned in a sea of depression or swept up into a manic high. Every single day, below the routine and the normality that appears I am watching every thing I do, looking out for triggers and early warning signs, analyzing my every thought and mood. 

Did I take my meds today? Am I sad because something sad happened or am I depressed? Am I reacting irrationally because of my personality disorder or is there something legitimate going on? Do I need to get in to see the doctor again? Is this restlessness normal or something more? Am I just being lazy or is it the depression knocking on my door again? Why did that trigger me? There's an early warning sign... what can I do to combat it?

This constant strain is exhausting... but necessary. It's only been four months since I tried to kill myself. Four months since the suffering that I felt that was below the high functioning persona came crashing through and nearly broke me. Four months since I was completely alone and lost within myself, drowning in despair.

Right now I'm okay. But four months ago I wasn't. Four months ago I was spiraling into a deep depression, bad enough to make me want to end my life... and nobody knew about it. Four months ago, my internal thoughts weren't about what I could do to keep myself mentally healthy, they were instead filled with ways to end the pain. 

The worst part is that it could happen again. 

I'm in recovery right now. It's how I respond to those who ask if I'm doing better because I know that I can appear just fine... but I also know what could happen if I keep my struggle inside. So now I'm working on admitting that, like any illness it's taking time to get back to normal. I'm not there yet and there are still days where it's beyond difficult... but I'm getting there. The only way to get help, to get understanding is to talk about it, to let others see what can't always be seen, both when I'm sick and when I'm getting healthy.