Why Would Someone Choose Mental Illness?

     Since receiving my diagnosis of Bipolar disorder, I have learned that there is still so much negativity about mental illness. People still believe stereotypes. Some people make cruel jokes, think it's funny. Don't get me wrong. I make jokes about myself all the time, but some people take it too far. Some people believe mental illnesses don't even exist. It's all in our heads. "If you just try harder, you could get past this." "If you just changed your attitude, you would feel better." "You don't need to take all that medication; all you need is a change of mind." People think we use mental illness as an excuse so we can be lazy, get away with stuff, or gain some sympathy. "You're choosing to feel this way." Really? Let me tell you how it felt when I first starting noticing my bipolar symptoms, before I was put on the right medication. This song does a good job. It's Monster by Skillet.

     "The secret side of me I never let you see." That's right. I didn't want anyone to see it. I didn't want anyone to think I was "going crazy" or that they needed to care for me. I didn't want to be a burden. I didn't want to be labelled. I'm still weary sometimes to tell people that I have bipolar disorder because I don't want them to automatically assume something about me. That shouldn't be the case. 

     "I keep it caged, and I can't control it." I tried to keep it all inside. Lock it up. It didn't work, and I think it made it worse. Not being able to be open about it was awful. There were times where everything did feel so out of control, and it was torture. 

     "So stay away from me; the beast is ugly. I feel the rage, and I just can't hold it." I pushed people away. I didn't want people to see me like that. Losing control of my life. I didn't know who I was, and I was afraid. I hated myself, and I was angry. I constantly questioned why this was happening to me. When would it end? 

     "It's scratching on the walls, in the closets, in the halls. It comes awake, and I can't control it. Hiding under the bed, in my body, in my head. Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?" This illness surrounded me. It was everywhere. I couldn't get away from it. Doctors were of little help. I pretty much lost all hope.

     "I feel it deep within. It's just beneath the skin. I must confess that I feel like a monster. I hate what I've become. The nightmare's just begun." I felt like my mind, body, and spirit were being tortured. Sometimes I could literally feel my skin crawling. Voices screamed in my head. My thoughts would race. It penetrated deep down into who I was, made me question everything, took away the security of my mind.
     "It's hiding in the dark. It's teeth are razor sharp. There's no escape for me. It wants my soul; it wants my heart. No one can hear me scream. Maybe it's just a dream. Maybe it's inside of me. Stop this monster." Anytime things calmed down, I felt like it was always waiting. It was only a matter of time before it would start up again, and I'd be thrown into a hurricane. There really was no escape. I tried many things to see if they would provide an escape but to no avail. I felt like no one was listening, like the doctors. Everything they tried, failed. I just wanted it to stop!

     Tell me. Is this something you would choose? I doubt it. I sure didn't. For some reason, though, it chose me. Lucky for me, I'm on the right medication now, and I don't feel this way anymore. It's much better now. My life went from chaos and torture to functioning and downright awesome, if you ask me lol. I did  need medication, for those who say they aren't necessary. I was on countless medications that failed before finding this one that actually works. So you can't tell me they don't work. People with mental illnesses don't wish for them just like people with cancer, heart disease, diabetes, and other diseases don't wish for those either. Even though I didn't ask for this, I have learned to accept and deal with it. Bipolar disorder is a part of who I am, and I will have to deal with it for the rest of my life. I will always do my best to stay ahead of it and not let it get the best of me. It does not define who I am. I am not a diagnosis or a stereotype, and I will not be treated like one. I like and accept who I am. Why is it so hard for others to do that?