I don't know how to live with being insane. I'm trying to figure it out, but how can I?
How can I determine solutions for dealing with my mental health issues with it all begins in my mind anyway? I feel as though I can't trust my brain. All the craziness, all the irrationality, all the peaks and troughs, the self-destruction, the great force of negativity, it all begins there. Each impulse I feel is probably misguided. I can't tell the good ideas from the bad. The rage flows in and out of planning the week, clocking in at work, and making lunch for the kids. I don't trust what could be coming out of my own mouth.
How do I temper the anxiety and still live? Do I even bother trying? Every attempt I make at being normal, sociable, and a contributing member of society gets blown over by my inability to think rationally. My mental illness defines what I become in every aspect of my life.
Do I stop myself from pursuing my dreams because I know I will eventually ruin everything I have built up anyway? Do I stop myself from creating meaningful relationships because my mind will eventually rot them for me, or cause me to do things that destroy close relationships? Why bother letting people in when I will inevitably drive them back out? Do I chase anything worse pursuing even when I can't stop second guessing myself, or feeling like I can't keep up a charade of "having it all together?" Do I halt career and schooling options because the stress makes everything worse?
This is to say nothing of the regret I already feel. Why did I bring a spouse into my life so that they have to deal with all my repercussions and pick up all the pieces after I implode? Even worse, why did I bring children into the world, and see all the faulty ways which I parent? So that I can see all my own weaknesses and shortcomings in them? I feel I have done them a disserve by being their mother, because I understand that my insanity is inheritable. Am I just creating a horrible household for them to grow up in, through no fault of their own?
What kind of a life is worth building when all I do is ruin everything I touch? When all I can do is overthink and overanticipate and freak out about everything I do, and everything that everyone else does? When all my self-critical anxiety stains everything I am, and bleeds onto everything I touch or create, what is the point of creating? What's the point of jobs, friends, family relationships, hobbies, education, and everything else that gives life meaning? I'm just going to ruin it all.
My mind is a terrible place to be.
