Vulnerable

Vulnerable. 

My mental illness struggles make me vulnerable. My anxiety makes me vulnerable. My depression makes me vulnerable. Taking medication for my anxiety disorder and depression make me vulnerable. The world, the stigmas, the whispers, the rumors make me vulnerable. Living with anxiety and depression is exhausting mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I find myself at a crossroads of sort. Reaching out for help,  yet hiding the pain. Holding back the tears, hiding when they do fall, trying to hide it all behind a smile. But failing at doing it all. 

Being vulnerable, opening up, sharing the darkness just to be left with blank stares, silent replies and emptiness.

There’s so much work to be done, so much work that I want to do. But the system isn’t built in my favor. It’s not there to help me immediately. It’s full of wait lists, unanswered emails, being put on hold. It’s finding a new therapist because you no longer fit on your previous ones case load. It’s the pain of closing that chapter after years of work…then opening up, crying in front of a complete stranger, doing the hard work, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, rebuilding yourself. 

It’s a fight that I’m dealing with every day. But it’s not just me fighting it. There are others like me. In similar circumstances, although everyone’s story is different. 

I’m vulnerable. 

I’m fighting. 

I’m drained but not ready to give up.