The topic for this blog came from a phone conversation with someone in-my-circle-of-people-I-appreciate-and-trust. That's a mouthful. In other words: I have a difficult time trusting people. And this person, whom I have known for a verrrry long time (who I love very much), called me one the morning. As she usually does. Without hesitation. So, What Happened?

"I'm not sick anymore!" Sound familiar? It does for many people who struggle with mental illness, particularly chronic mental illness, but also addiction and alcoholism. It's important to mention that this feeling is not exclusive to these diseases but for the purpose of this blog let's focus on them.

Have you ever watched television, absentmindedly, and are shaken awake by the statement: "One in four people will suffer from a mental illness at some point in their lives." Great. My first instinct? Well, I feel less alone. The Mathematics of Mental Illness

This topic is close to my heart...or, rather, high on my level of irritation. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of twelve, I have seen my share of psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers---I am missing a few people, er, professionals. The list is extensive. Some of us are blessed to be working with a wonderful mental health team right of the bat. Diagnosed with a mental illness? This is your new psychiatrist, he or she will make you well, provided you put the work in! My experience has been quite the opposite--a bit more complicated. Contradictions in Diagnosis

It would be lovely if the diagnosis of mental illness came with a prescription for recovery that was given to all of us. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder? take this pill, you will be fine. You will be recovered! That would be nice, perfect, what a fantastic dream! Then you wake up. You take your medication. That's the reality. Recovery is different for all of this: treatment is never the same. Some of us, once diagnosed and treated, experience no symptoms of all. On the flip side, some of us struggle on a day to day basis.

I usually choose a specific topic for these blogs and work to describe the importance of managing and accepting mental illness. Last week, I wrote a blog focusing on recovering from and recognizing depression. This week, based on my life currently, I want to talk about stress and the impact it has on those who live with mental illness. I am really struggling with this right now.

Depression. I hate the word. Also, not in my repertoire of lovely words: consistent low mood. melancholy, apathetic, stuck, frightened, darkness, sadness. Lovely words, perhaps a thesaurus would give me two hundred more. But that is not the topic of this blog. Defining Depression Your psychiatrist can define depression, but in a clinical way. The language used cannot describe how a depressed person feels. Instead, person must exhibit specific symptoms: change in sleep patters, appetite, a lack of interest in previously enjoyed activities, isolation, sadness. When I tell my psychiatrist I am depressed she asks me how I feel. Often, if you are experiencing depression, it is hard to articulate your feelings. Sometimes, I tell her I do not know how I feel. I feel sad. I don't think I felt this way a couple months ago. But it's confusing. Working to compare how you felt before you started to feel down.

It seems unfair, to say the least, that when we are trying to recover from mental illness, our body can become ill as well. For a long time, I did not connect physical illness to mental illness. I  believed the body and mind were separate. I often found myself in my doctor's office. I told him I had migraines on a daily basis. He asked me if this had always been the case, and I told him no, just every few months. I get hit with serious sinus infections a few times a year, and curse my immune system. I am doing everything I should: eating healthy, exercising, taking my medication, and some vitamin's throw in for fun. It took a long time to put the pieces together: mental illness causes unwanted physical symptoms, and not symptoms exclusively from psychiatric medication.

Accepting the diagnosis of mental illness can seem impossible. It hurts. It can shatter the sense of self you have acquired throughout your life. Pre-diagnosis, you might have felt that your personality was acquired, hard fought. You don't want to be anyone but you. Accepting you have a mental illness is initially terrifying.

I hesitated to use the word war in the title. I considered using the word struggle. But war is defined by combat: You are at war with your mental illness. Sometimes, every day. Struggle means many things, but war feels appropriate. You can win a war, perhaps struggle along the way, but land on your feet nonetheless.