Sometimes I wonder why I bother to slither out of bed in the morning. Today everybody and there dogs decided to call me at the butt crack of dawn. By the butt crack of dawn I mean ten a.m. and by everybody and their dogs I mean two people that don't even own dogs....whatever it's totally possible that dogs were trying to call me and they just couldn't push the buttons with their paws. It's possible!
I had to make phone calls this morning, which I detest. I ended dropping the phone and then knocking over my floor lamp sending it crashing to the ground and shattering all over the floor....awesome. So I then had to sweep and vacuum up the glass.
The word butterfingers comes to mind. I could blame it on my defunct finger that has never been quite as mobile after I broke it or my eyesight. The truth is I am and always have been utterly clumsy. I have a drunk swagger but yet I do not drink. It is was it is.
I don't like excuses. They seem to be a band aid slapped over the gaping wounds of the soul. I try not to make them. I want to not only accept my issues but be honest about them as well. No excuses means no lies and being forced to look into the deep ugly truth. The truth about me.
It is what it is.
I have mental illness. It makes some things harder than others. I have ,at one time, lived like a superhero. I have an alter ego. I was Super Nelly when I was around others that I have not shared my plight with. Complete with cape and spandex and a mask. Okay, maybe not spandex....but you get the idea. They only saw what they wanted to and I did not correct them. They saw a mask of smiles and capability. The alter ego makes me look like I have my stuff together. Like I am invincible. Like I can handle everything. It is so easy to get so caught up in this lie that I start to believe it myself sometimes. The real me crumples to the floor. The real me can not handle stress or things expected of me. The real me has no super powers or a mask. The real me is strong but weary. The real me is sometimes a broken heap lying on the floor.
It is what it is.
I will not apologize for being sick any longer.I am doing the best I can. Sometimes I fall. I get back up and it is very possible that I will fall back down again. I keep trying. I am stubborn that way. I will not make excuses. It happens. This is me trying. I don't need to be punished or stigmatized on top of the amount of crap I am sifting through on a daily basis already. If you don't like my attitude, then there's the door.
It is what is is.
There are things in life that are hard to talk about. There are things in life that make you want to run and hide. I don't really have that option. I have to talk about this. I can not run and hide from something that lives inside me. I've tried. It just follows you and infects everything you touch like a disease. The only way to get away from it is to face it head on and deal with it. I am tired of running and at some point you have to take a stand. So, I am standing.
It is what it is.
It is what it is. There is no magical potion or wand that is going to fix me. I have to do that myself. I have to keep trying. I have to keep talking. I have to keep getting back up. I have to, failure is not an option when it comes to something as important as this. So I am no longer going to act like I am a super hero. I don't have to. I am already stronger than any fictional super hero out there. Superman deal with mental illness....please he'd be crying in the corner like a wimp. So, this is the hand of cards I was dealt with. I can do this. I will keep on getting back up and fighting but know this, I will not apologize to make others feel better. I didn't ask to be born with mental illness and I don't accept the implications that I did. I will not cower in fear of your judgment. I really don't care about your opinion if you are just going to stand there and remain ignorant on the subject. I am not going to make excuses for my having a mental illness. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of. It is what it is and I accept it, maybe you should too.