Fighting an “Invisible” Illness

What it’s like to live with a Mental Illness and why I’ve decided to talk about it.

Fighting an Invisible Illness continues to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s like I have no control over my mind and body. It thinks what it thinks, feels how it feels and I just have to sit here and suffer the effects. I can tell you one thing, this whole Invisible Illness is incredibly visible if you know what to look for. While I’m not quite yet ready to share my whole story, there are a few things I feel I need to say.

These last few months have been a real struggle. I know some of you have been following my journey and I appreciate those who have checked in to see how I’m doing and those who are there for me in worst of times. I have spent the last 8 months living deep in a hole of pain, suffering, trauma and hurt. I have spent many days trying to convince myself it is worth it to stay alive. But some days, the thoughts of ending it all and having the pain leave are ever so tempting.

For those who don’t know, I have always struggled with Mental Health. Even since I was a child, I just didn’t know that’s what it was back then. I remember being anxious, not wanting to go to school, faking sick, the constant knots in my tummy and headaches that never went away, not sleeping because I couldn’t stop thinking… I remember the nightmares, the flashbacks. I remember all these things and now finally can look back and say, “Girl, you’ve been struggling for a long time, you just didn’t know how to make sense of it then. This isn’t your fault”.

The last 6 years have been a really wild ride for me. I hit my ultimate low a few times where my family and doctors were concerned for my safety. And I honestly can’t blame them. I too was worried about my safety.

I’ve been diagnosed with a multitude of Mental Illnesses. I’ve been on dozens of medications, some that helped, and some that made me want to die every second. I’ve been to therapy, quit therapy because they said it was my fault I was struggling, moved away from family and friends and ended up in some pretty bad work environments. But 8 months ago, I went through somethings that I haven’t been able to recover from… yet. This, by far has been my lowest and darkest time of life. And, honestly, it still is. I’m now back in therapy with an amazing therapist that I trust. I’ve switched medications 6 times in the last month. We still can’t find the right balance. I’m waiting to see a psychiatrist. It’s been a process. And while the only words I have to describe my last 8 months are an utterly dark and endless hell, I keep fighting. Fighting this invisible illness.

To be honest, I’m not sure why some days. I do have the most amazing family and a boyfriend whom I desperately want to marry and have a family with, and most days, that’s what keeps me going. When the death thoughts creep in, I start thinking about wedding plans. Our wedding will probably be planned before we get engaged, even (haha). But it is what is keeping me alive.

While it’s hard to see the good in this season of hell, there are three things that I have to remind myself of often:

1. I have a family, boyfriend and some friends who love and care for me deeply and will sit with me as I cry on the phone for hours.
2. I am blessed with an incredible Psychologist who is specially trained in cases like mine (Complex Trauma).
3. It’s not just me. I’m not the only one struggling. I’m not alone.

A while ago in therapy, my therapist had me listen to a few podcasts of people with similar struggles as me. While their talks were good, I felt an extreme lack of hope. They were on the other side. They made it and I honestly couldn’t even imagine myself getting there.

I mentioned this to my therapist that everyone who talks about their Mental Illness is usually on the other side of it. They’ve fought the battle and are in remission. They’ve found the hope and reason to stay alive. They’ve got their coping strategies, their grounding practices, their things they do when they’re struggling and their support system to get them through. They’ve made it through the intensive therapy, done the medications, but they’re on the other side. The side that knows HOW it feels to be better. That this feeling that’s gripped me for so long can actually let up.

But no one writes about what it’s like to be here. In the place where you aren’t sure it’s worth it. In the dark, hell of a trench that never seems to ease up. The place where there is no light at the end of the tunnel. The place where you spend more time thinking you’d be better off dead than thinking about anything else. I said to my therapist no one writes where I am. No one tells me how to survive these thoughts, or just says it was a phase. They all just say life is worth it and it will get better. It’s possible to feel better. But what happens when my “life” is literally me taking it hour to hour, unsure of how to get from one to the next? How am I supposed to know the future will be good when I can barely survive an hour? When all I know and can remember is pain?

And that’s when I realized something needs to change. We need people speaking out. Crying out from the depths of despair so we know we’re not alone. That we aren’t the only one with this Invisible Illness. That we’re not the only one struggling, which our minds often tell us. We need stories. From all sides. Not to make a before, during, and after manual, because our stories are all different, but to offer some hope even if it’s only realizing that you’re not the only one battling this.

So, I’ve decided to use my voice. To speak up in this hell. To cry out from the depths. Not for attention. Not for pity. But to break the stigma. To start conversations. To let people know that I’m struggling right alongside you. And though I don’t know how I’m going to survive tomorrow, I can tell you I’m going to fight like hell to make it hour by hour today.

It’s time to shed some light on the “Invisible Illnesses”. It’s time for people to take this seriously. It’s time to break the stigma.

So, I’m inviting you on a journey. A journey to learn what it’s like to live with an Invisible Illness, how to support someone you love who’s in this place, and more importantly, to show you that you are not alone. And knowing that, believing that, gives us more power than we know.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do with this… Or how often. But I process with words so I figure I might as well try and help someone while trying to help myself. I’m not sure what it will look like, but I can tell you it is going to be real, raw and tough, because that’s where I’m at right now. But I still feel my story is important to share NOW, even though I haven’t made it to my happy ending yet.

So, if you want to read along, thank you. Thank you for caring, not only about me, but about those with these Invisible Illnesses. Thanks for learning and walking along side us as we fight to stay alive and try to break the stigma at the same time. And to those who are in the trenches, with me, fighting- keep going. I know it’s hard and it hurts like hell, but the world needs you here. I need you here. We can do this. Together.

Love,

Becca