not to be a downer here, but it really isn’t for some of us. some of us get to choose between healthy emotional responses and not getting fired, evicted, etc etc etc. I can have a breakdown… how does the third Sunday of this month sound? I can pencil in a breakdown at 1:30.
I don’t want to sound rude and I know I’m going to sound as incredibly privileged as I am. But I really fucking wish it was a choice. I wish could have not failed out of university and I wish I could work something other than a part-time job that I have not shown up for for the past week. I wish my brain would let me push through it. I wish I had the resources and the support system, both in terms of friends and in terms of medicine, to kick me in the ass. Because when it’s just me, my brain doesn’t let me do it.
I don’t get a choice and I have been extremely, extremely close to being without a home over the past year. The fact that I have a place to live and a job (for now) has been luck. The fear of homelessness has not been enough to fix my fucking brain.
I wish I didn’t know what it was like when you don’t show up and spend the day just trying to breathe. I wish I didn’t know what it was like in a psych ward or in the psych section of the ER at 4am. I wish I didn’t know how little of a support system I have because I have tried to fall back on it and felt it disintegrate beneath me. I wish I could just get up and go to work and class even when my brain is doing everything it can to convince me to just. fucking. kill. myself. already.
Or maybe I am just blaming everything on a disease and not actually pushing myself enough.