Who Matters Most?

Let me begin by saying that my mental health has improved drastically in the past three days. A small circuit of people knew about the struggles I was having; an even smaller circuit knew the severity. My last blog post indicated little hope of things getting better, but they did. Quickly after those words were penned, in fact. And I know who I owe that to. Sure, the adjustment in meds helped, but having my fiance there to support me, to hold me as I sobbed uncontrollably, to listen to my irrational thoughts, to love me despite it all...that's true healing power. To have my children love me and care about how I am feeling and to encourage me, just as I try to do for them...that's true healing power. The encouragement I received from online friends and fellow mental health bloggers, people who know the struggles firsthand and believed in my ability to push through like I have done countless times before...that's true healing power. To all of you, I want to say thank you. Thank you for saving my life.

Not everyone I know is as helpful. Most don't know much or anything about what goes on inside my head or how it affects my daily living. I try to be a lot more open about my illness than I used to; I stopped being ashamed a while back and consider it my duty to help others realize there is nothing about mental illness to be ashamed of. It opens my life up to a lot of scrutiny, from strangers, family, so-called friends, etc. I won't lie; people can be really hurtful at times. They're the ones who like to judge me for things I've done, things I haven't done, things they think I have done that I actually have not done; they basically just judge me for anything their little "perfect" minds can think of. I'm not like them, therefore something is wrong with me. Well, I think something is dreadfully wrong with THEM. So, who wins?

And then there are the people who only want to be around me when I am well. If I can do something for you, if I can make you laugh, if I can keep all my scribbles inside the lines and not do anything "weird" or "crazy", then I'm a swell family member or friend. As soon as I go a little "crazy", all bets are off. Lock your doors, Amy's gone bonkers again. Let's pretend she doesn't exist for a while. Maybe she will start acting normal again and then we may talk to her. Right now let's just stay far, far away. Thanks for nothing, folks!

I hate being hated. I hate when I lose friends. I hate when family walks out of my life. I hate when I have to distance myself from certain people because they do nothing but add pain and insecurity to my life. I miss people who I thought loved me, who I thought accepted me but for whatever reason, sanity-related or not, chose not to associate with me anymore. I really hate when they don't even tell me why. I'd really like to give them a questionnaire to fill out. Give me some pointers, eh?  I'm all about self-improvement.

But, if I spend time wondering about the unhelpful people in my life, I lose valuable time with the ones who are helpful. My true family. My true friends. If you know me, you know I go out of my way to do good things for others when I am well. When I am unwell...I am a bit useless, I admit. But my chances of wellness are a lot better around the people who accept me well or not. I give my all to them. I love them. I don't take them for granted. I'm about as loyal as a puppy, minus all the slobber and chewed-up shoes. I know who matters in my life. And I won't trade one more minute worrying about the ones who don't.