It’s strange to me, that I can experience something on a constant basis, and some people straight up don’t believe that’s even a thing.
Like, anxiety when trying to fall asleep.
Like, having the unprovoked urge to burst into tears.
Like, having a conversation and ending it totally drained, emotionally and mentally.
It’s strange how I can battle with mental health every day, every night, and people exist in this world who don’t know the difference between feeling sad when something bad happens, and genuine depression. People exist who think anxiety and mental challenges are made up.
I know of people who’ve talked about fearing to associate with someone with a mental illness because–they claim–as human beings we innately fear what we don’t understand and shun what makes us unwell.
I know other people who try to understand someone with a mental illness, which is good for them that they’re trying, but it’s so strange to me that what I live with every day, and what they live with every day, exist separated across an ocean, a whole horizon of colored experiences, and they have to put forth effort to even see those other colors.
That’s just so…weird to think about.