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I woke up this morning still in recovery from a recent anxiety attack. The attack happened at work in front of my colleagues, and to me, I made a fool of myself in front of everyone not knowing what was racing through my head at the time. I had the Angel in one ear pleading that I can do this, I can push myself to recover. However, I had the Devil in the other ear laughing at me because he knew this would be the end of me. All my thoughts and feelings were temporarily removed from my body and were left stranded in the air until I managed to pull through the terrible time I was facing.
I've not had the best of weeks this week. I've hit a few potholes in the road since the attack and my brain has drained itself out completely. I won’t lie, it’s been hell. I don’t really know who I am at the moment and it’s a struggle to just move on from recent events like tomorrow is another day. I've taken my actions out on people that I didn't mean to; the people I'm closest to. I’ve gone back into my shell and isolated myself and only spoke to people where it’s absolutely necessary. This is where I’ve learned that I’m wrong in doing that. But, with the help from the people who know me best, I could pull through and get back on my feet again. So out of my shell I come again and reach out to talk to someone about my condition. It's hard to explain to people about my mental illness when certain people just overlook it and act as if it's not there and I'm just another human being.
When I was swept to my lowest point on Thursday, April 12, I struggled to find my identity again and pick myself back up again, and still am. Who am I? Thankfully, I’m slowly getting there thanks to a special someone. I have that one friend who listens to every word I say and always will. By opening up to him, my head has let off a huge sigh of relief knowing that talking about everything to him is making things better and I can put that cheesy smile on again. I have learned from my mistakes this week and have remembered that there's nothing to be ashamed of.
I'll never forget how far I've come over the last year and a half since being diagnosed with a mental health illness. This week alone, I may not have shown it, but I've pushed myself where I felt I was unable to and put on a brave face whatever the situation — today being one of those days. Now I will always know not to be ashamed or afraid when talking about my mental illness. I’m not being stupid, I’m being serious.
I know I’m not alone through this. There are millions of people out there with the same mental health illness as me, but for the people who think I am always okay — I’m not always. By showing your support in one way or another will always make me happy, even if I do end up breaking down in your arms. Even a simple hello can go a long way, easily. It can also really cheer me up in some shape or form. You won’t know until you try. My mental illness isn't contagious. You can't catch it by just being kind. Be kind, sit down and talk and get my emotions running. It’ll be a big help and eventually my normal self as you know will resume again.