an episode of vulnerability

It feels like forever since I last spoke to you.

I asked my daughter if she knows when I am not well. "you sleep and don't come out of my room."

 I have been having a difficult time and my brain has been a little loopy. I know that writing when I am going through tough times would be all the more truthful however;  revealing my life comes with risks. Risks like embarrassment, panic, shame.

For a week. My obsession got the best of me. I needed to deal with the house before I could allow myself to relax. over the last week I have have had two overnights and and 4 days sleeping. I was obsessed about how neat and tidy I want my house to be. I want to have everything put away into it's home, where it will look good and be practical. Even though I had gone over the house once and putting stuff away, I was going over it over and over again. I could not let go of my need to have perfect order. The kind of perfect order that does not exist.

When I was not cleaning, I have sparsely been able to get out of my room, I have a tough time even opening the curtains. I have been anxious to even leave the house by myself. I still do not know who to trust in this town, who I can be crazy in front of?  When I want to go outside, I rack my brain to see who would join me and usually go with Tia because it embarrasses me to need a person around to feel safe as I step out my door.

It's funny that I am so into advocating, so into providing people with a loud voice, to help others gain courage and confidence. And yet, when my illness has taken the best of me, I isolate my self, I hide away in shame and fear. Shame and fear of what others think of me. Fear of not making any sense at all. Embarrassed that I cannot pull myself together. I become a hermit.

Could it be possible that so few stand up and rally for mental illness because most of us are unable to even move from our homes, unable to face the anxiety of large crowds. I can say that from where I stand that if I, in a relatively stable state, cannot leave my room during a mild episode, how would I ever be able to stand in a crowd of thousands to stand up for rights that I don't believe I even deserve. I have to count on people who are stronger than I am to fight for me. People who are not crazy or scared. The problem then lies in that there are many more people who live with mental illness then there are who would stand up and speak for mental illness.

Where do we find our voice?