When it hurts, it is bad.
Some weeks ago I sat outside with a friend. We talked about illnesses and mine in particular. I had just been told that I should count on taking meds the rest of my life (people kept asking for how long I would be on meds and I didn’t know so I asked). I had been and am still surprised. My friend wasn’t. Her face went also sour when I say something in the lines of ‘I’m not that ill’. She is a really good friend of mine and do tell me off when I need it. I had to look away. “You really don’t think so?!” Well maybe, I don’t know.. I just thought that the average other had it worse.
It is really hard for me to judge the seriousness of my own situation and of others. My head strives after a pattern that can make it make sense to me. Maybe even an other system than the one I have. The one a navigate from now says if people are hurting, it is bad and if people are not hurting, it is good. My understanding of mental illness is like a child’s.
Over and out.
bipolar bear and me 