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Better.
I woke up at 5 A.M. this morning. I started to go through stuff I received for Christmas and sort it out until 7:30. Then I took my dog for a mile-long walk. I went back home and took the other dog for a walk. I got back at 9:00 AM. I cleaned out the cat litter boxes, then I went back upstairs to organize again after cleaning myself.
A few years ago, I would have never been able to do these simple tasks.
It's hard to describe why I couldn't do all of that just a little bit ago, but doctors usually call it depression.
It's not something I like to talk about much anymore. If you go back in my archive, you'll see my old posts about it I'm pretty sure. But I try not to look back on those posts, because they make me sad.
Assimilation is a word I've been thinking about a lot recently ever since I stumbled upon an interview with the creators of QAF where they discussed the decision of [insert spoilers here] but letting [insert other spoilers here]. And their reasoning behind it was that [insert character's name here] didn't want to assimilate like [insert other character's name here] and pretend to be a straight person. And while I am one of those gays who never want children (and will actively try to not date people who want children) and see marriage in a negative light, I did start to think about assimilating in other aspects of my life.
Being able to handle the little things in life has made me a much more happier person.
While a bunch of Tumblr dweebs may consider this 'neurotypical bullshit', I consider it 'functioning'. And for years, 'functioning' is all I wanted. I never wanted to put it on my sidebar on Tumblr that I had anxiety, because I wasn't proud of it.
And frankly, it is nothing to be proud of.
Yes, I am a person with mental illnesses. Sometimes, this affects me a lot more than I wish it could. But I'd rather die than let it consume me so much I feel like I need to post about how happy it makes me that I'm a special snowflake.
I'm recovering from a lot. I'm always going to be in recovery. One year, two years, ten years, or twenty years from now, I'm still going to be in recovery from a mental illness that I never fucking asked for. I spent quite a few years fighting my diagnosis, because I didn't want to be that person. If I was still denying it, the way some people act on Tumblr would make me positive I didn't have depression or anxiety.
I have always been an artist. Unfortunately, in a lot of art circles, it's common to romanticize your feelings. Even the really bad ones. While I have made art like that in the past, I can never see past the memories of the tears and anxiety attacks I had while making the art to truly appreciate it. So yes, I would take boring routines over the flighty Brianna we knew three years ago, because I feel a hell of a lot better now.
I've had a lot of people on my mind. I've been thinking about how they told me not to take antidepressants because it will 'ruin my personality', or how they expect me to stay ill so we could be 'mentally ill buddies'. It makes me sick to even think about it like that. These people tried to ruin my recovery- the only way I could live a normal life- because they wanted me to stay the same. I could be dead if I had not gotten better.
Unfortunately, a lot of those people haven't changed.
Even though I want nothing to do with these people, I will always care about them. I hope that they get better, because I would not wish a mental illness on my worst enemy. I hope they surround themselves with people who make them feel safe and push them to start the long, windy journey to functioning with a mental illness. I want them to kick ass, but I can't be running along with them anymore. It isn't fair to me.
I'm fragile. I break easily. Just one awful conversation with one of these people and I'll be back to square one.
I don't want that. And I hope they respect that.
