Dear Mental Illness,

Why are you always there?  Why are you more consistent than happiness, love, joy, and even my survival instinct?  You squish my smiles and cause that giant empty feeling in my chest.  You make me fear not having you around, because you have made me so dependent on you.

When you first showed up, I was just a kid.  A kid who went from thriving on peer praise, to a kid terrified that her peers would notice she existed.  You went so far as to make me afraid to cough in class, because then people would know I was there.  You quickly convinced me that you were to be my little secret, and would make me spend endless days crying in my room, only to gallop down the stairs for dinner with a giant fake grin on my face.

You grew with me, as I entered high school, you decided to rear your ugly head by adding the addiction of self-injury.  You wouldn’t allow medication to smother you for long, you would always find a way to out run the prescribed dose.

Then, you followed me to college.  The change in scenery confused you for a bit, and made you seem much smaller to me, but after a while you were back, weaker than before.  It was as though you were biding your time, saving your strength for what was to come next.  You invited your friend, addiction, to come live with you in my mind, and I was doomed.

You and addiction would tag team me.  First you would cause me to fear extreme depression, and be terrified of socializing, and then addiction would come in to sooth the damage you had done by reminding me to drink as much alcohol as I could get my hands on.  Addiction was just another trick, and much like you, addiction did its best to destroy me.

You have almost killed me countless times.  You and addiction have together ruined many of my friendships.  You have made me distrustful, depressed, paranoid, and recently you have even added a bit of delusion to your ever-taunting mix.

The joke is on you though, mental illness, because I have found a secret weapon.  My secret weapon comes in the form of a magnetic pulse, and it’s so strong, even you are having trouble out running it.  I don’t doubt that you will regroup and eventually return.  My unwelcome friend, no one knows me better than you, and so I know you will find a way to taunt me again.  Until then, I hope you enjoy your turn spending time cowering in the corner.

Forever yours,

Sara