All that I am, all that I ever was…

I am more than my mental health. I am more than my homelessness. I am more than any one aspect of me. I am Addy. And this is…

Days 27 & 28: Take the good with the bad

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Because I’ve been a little behind with the 30 Days of Mental Illness Awareness Challenge, I have decided not to think about the answers to days 27 and 28 all that much. Instead, I’ve decided to freewrite my answers in one combined post.

The prompts ask: explain a good day and explain a bad day, so I shall begin with the bad…

Bad Day

Bad day

The first thought that comes to mind when thinking about a ‘bad day’ is a complicated one. A bad day for me is a mess of complex emotions, crippling pain and (more often than not) tears.

I’ve become all too familiar with these days over the last five years. Hours upon days upon weeks of my life lost to the torment of negative emotion, obsessive self-hate and punishing self-harm.

On a bad day I struggle to get out of bed. Words lose their meaning and appear in random patterns on the page. I can’t think or speak. I can’t dream or believe. I become lost to the demon that lurks within me and obey her every whim, desire and torturous demand.

On a bad day I become someone I don’t recognise. My soul is stripped of the passions and pleasures that usually resonate from within. I lose interest in everything that normally brings me joy and spend my hours staring into space, wondering about the sweet release of death.

On a bad day I’m not Addy. I’m no-one. Just a shapeless object taking up space.

Yes. A bad day is a day that sees me disappear.

Good Day

Good day

The first thought that comes to mind when thinking about a ‘good day’ is a simple one. A good day for me is a day that sees me smile, even if it is just one momentary smirk of the lips.

Smiling is something I know I don’t do enough of. It’s not that I don’t like smiling; it’s just that after the half decade I’ve had there is very little left to smile about.

People tell me I should just “fake it ‘til I make it”, but in my opinion faking a smile is tantamount to faking an orgasm. Why pretend to feel something that you’re not? It just lessens the pleasure of when it happens naturally.

So when it does happen naturally, it’s something I became acutely aware of. I know why I’m smiling; it reverberates through my body from the tips of my hair to the nails of my toes, I celebrate it, relish it, bathe in it. I cherish every moment of those smiles and whatever has prompted my lips to curl and soul to sing in the first place.

Yes. A good day is a day that sees me smile.

 

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