There’s life with the experience of mental illness and then there’s life as a mental patient. I’ve been told that both entail a large serving of unfathomable suffering. Suffering that brings you to the brink of something you can’t imagine tolerating one more second of, and then it asks you how you’d like to stay there for infinity. The kind of existential fear that comes with not knowing what is real and what is illusion. A depth of pain that feels so endless it’s like a black hole inside your core. Others describe feeling on fire, electrified by worry. Or maybe you’ve just been told that your behavior is concerning, scary, or dangerous.
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