I think the  hardest part of mental illness , is not in the acceptance that I have  a specific mental illness. At least it is not the case for me.  But  in realising a portion of my mental illness is understanding and accepting that  I will and often do,  forsake all that I know for an ever changing reality.  Like a whim , like a flight of fancy if you will. Whatever I am believing or doing in that moment is my reality.  There no standard of normalalicy to reflect upon.  No plumb line, no sails to anchor my ship to shore.  There is no ship and there is no shore! No solid ground under my feet to stand on.  Normal people make plans to take a flight to a vacation spot and then  back home again. Not me .When  I take to flight, there is no starting point, no place to go back to. My flight could make 10 different stops and each one is my reality.

I will continue on this way until medicated, or in prayerfully  less severe cases , triggered by something I might see or  an odor from something being cooked,  And I come back  I come back hard and land in bed for days on end,  But Thank God I come back. Before I max out every credit card, or sleep with every man I feel sorry for, and because in this state there is not enough sex,.Or before I buy a woman at the grocery store one months worth of groceries because she looked so sad,  Or before I make very lose connections and take a bottle of  Iron pills because I believe that mud turtle in the swamp behind our house is giving me a disease, And only Iron pills can cure me.   And I can't tell anyone,  I can't tell anyone because I am to sick to know I am sick.

I believe I am a high chaser, a junkie looking for my next high...

The End

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