They say those who study psychology are diagnostically crazy themselves. So, here I sit with a bachelors in psychology and no where closer to understanding my own mental illness. It’s been my constant companion all my life.
My mother is a narcissist with a drinking problem and my father is a hippie in his own right. Addled by years of heavy drug use and existential thinking. He finds spirituality in books and bottles. My brother? Well, let’s just say he airs on the side of caution and isolates himself. His social anxiety and stuttering fit right into place with that life. Then there’s myself, take all their vices and genetic demons and mix them in a big pot. Add in a dash of emotional instability and a sprinkle of despondency and you’ve got me. An excessively anxious twenty something searching desperately to understand her inadequacy and insanity. My story won’t always be uplifting, if you’re looking for a tale of sobriety and recovery then move along. It’s bursting with troublesome coping methods and assorted dark days. I don’t pretend to know how to live happily with mental illness, but I’ve made it this far and I think that’s something.
I created this blog to reach out to others who feel similar and work to end the stigma of mental illness finally.