Day 35: Anger

I hate mental illness.  Sure, no one would ever say they love it, but some days, I get so angry from all the shit that goes with mental illness.  Last week, I started having problems with my mental health. I became so angry. The feeling consumed me to the point I couldn’t think of anything to say.  When I did, all I wanted to say was the f-word. I did fling the word at one loved one. I had enough.

Mental illness isn’t new to my world.  I have been around issues all my life. Fortunately, most of the situations were in the peripheral.  I have struggled with a little post partum depression, panic attacks when my husband was in Iraq, and twice in my life I felt the world close in around me.  I guess that wasn’t so secondary. When my husband came home from Iraq, PTSD became a huge part of our life. We faced the situation.  My husband worked hard and I worked through my own stuff.  Life resumed a new normal.

In the last four years, mental illness has affected more family members in either rearing its head for the first time or getting worse.  I went for my own therapy a little over three years ago during the summer to deal with them. The next summer I went to one session during a huge crisis.  I haven’t seen my therapist in two years. Well, obviously I need to start up again. Apparently, I have been stuffing my emotions into a tight, huge ball that has popped. 

At the moment, I don’t want to talk about the details.  I am also angry at all the people who haven’t a clue and love to give advice or theories.  I could blow at anyone at this point. I have called my therapist and set up an appointment.  I can’t be this angry.