Over the years, I have battled my mental health conditions. Sometimes, it’s difficult to recognize that prioritizing my mental health is always important. Now I understand that caring for my mental health matters every day. It matters regardless of what is going on or what I am feeling. There have been times when I had not thought it mattered. I have skirted with uncertainty. Eventually I had learned that caring for my mental health always matters.

I have doubted myself many times. Others always discovered too late that I was not caring for myself. I eventually learned that when I was not caring for myself was when others shared concern. Because I was not well, I had believed that they were gaining up on me. Little did I know that was the disease that I was experiencing. Eventually, I learned the hard way. I noticed the subtle hints that showed me I needed to care for myself. That mattered more than anything.

I eventually realized that taking my mental health medication was no different than taking my physical health medication. When I was not doing it, I was not feeling well physically just as much mentally. But once I had gotten back on track, I felt better physically. If I took the time to rest and care for myself, it was even better. Everyone knew when I was not well. It scared them because they thought I was going to do something dangerous. My mental health condition did not make me aware of the dangers around me. I couldn’t see that, and it was setting me up for a worse outcome. Eventually, someone had to have a talk with me.

Eventually, it was the fear of having candid discussions with those in power. This fear drove anxiety in me. In the beginning, I would push the envelope further and further. I thought I would skirt by the discussion. Yet, a part of me lived in fear of others. I was worried about what they would say or do about me. I eventually realized that I needed to avoid the fear I was experiencing. I had to care for myself. I did whatever it took to get back on track.

Eventually I got tired of fighting a battle that I had never seemed to win. It never worked out in the ways that it had believed to work out. The disease often overtook me when I neglected self-care. I believed that I was more than capable and just fine on my own. I feared those in power. I needed to trust them. They had to help me see that I had to reel myself in. I needed to do what was right. I also did not want to fake how I was feeling. I was really feeling down and out. I was barely surviving.