Fight Like Hell

In the midst of the dense fog that my mind can not escape, I must find the space to acknowledge and accept that the willingness to live is within me as well as the willingness to die.

Then fight like hell to side with the willingness to live.

I am my advocate.

My mental illness is unique to me. My meds is my unique cocktail. It is my duty to ensure I track my meds, emotions, my coping mechanisms, and journal about each day. I need to know exactly what to advocate for when it comes to prescription drugs, my physical health, my mental and emotional health.

I am uncomfortable in admitting I am mentally ill. I am exhausted from questionnaires, medical history forms, psych test, psych evaluations, talking about my emotions, my history.

Weary I am but, as I sat across from my beautiful teenage son yesterday. I listened as he opened up about his feelings to me and I took a mental note, this young man needs his mama more than he even realizes.

Weary I am but, when my toddler runs to me with this unexplainable light. I sweep him into my arms and my soul shines.

Weary I am but, my partner in life, my love, my best friend holds my hand and he takes the weight of much although his exhaustion is visible.

Weary I am but, I feel the energy of my family and friends who have rallied behind me, encouraged me, loved me…I hear those voices and I fight.

Weary I am.

Fight I will.