Am I sick?

Am I sick?

{All I know, or pretend to know, is my experience with depression}

This is a question I struggle with all the time. 

Depression is a sneaky bastard, slowly working to rot me from the inside, all the while trying to convince me it's not here.

I know my pain is real.

I know the struggle, the battle, I fight day after day to simply move forward.

I know most days I spend so much energy on (trying) to appear "normal", I don't have anything extra for me, for fun.

I know I want to join the fight with others to be able to have discussions about mental illness.

I know I fail inside my own head to fight stigma.

I know when I read other's stories, I always feel their journey is so much more real than mine, that I'm somehow a fraud.

I know I am sometimes feel jealous when I read of someone who has died, or see a troubled character on TV die.

I know I need help.

 

Meet jamoalki

Meet jamoalki

Driving and blogging

Driving and blogging