Today's the day I face facts. After all, you can't fix a problem you won't admit to. Ignoring accelerated geometry in tenth grade never really made it go away, ya know? Anyways, this isn't a story about an addiction or a crime. This is me confessing my insanity. I know, I know. Stick with me here.
Nowadays, there's a huge focus on mental disorders in society. In some instances, the focus is good. For instance, children with learning disabilities aren't just stamped 'Stupid' on their forehead and sent through the rest of their life feeling as though they're missing something everyone else has. Rather, they're given special classrooms and teachers, and even sometimes their own special set of rules. In most places, however, the focus on mental disorders is bad, very, very bad. There's a stigma around people who admit to having them, there's people who lie about having them just so they can get attention... And then there's people like me, assuming there are more out there like myself, who live each and every single day trapped in a box they can't find their way out of because being crazy just wasn't on their bucket list.
Anxiety is one of the disorders I've come to hate. It's so broad and practically anyone can claim to have it and then all the sudden, they're excused from being a respectful, respectable human being. I know someone who takes anxiety medication at fifteen and then uses that as an excuse to act out and make bad choices, all the while her parents just baby her. I know someone else who uses their anxiety as a means to make them look vulnerable and gain attention. Every single time I see her update a status about her 'anxiety', I want to throw my phone out a window. Someone else I know claims to have anxiety so bad she can't even go into a Wal-Mart sometimes. The same person uploads selfies on facebook, duck-face and all, and posts statuses about something-or-other-is-better-than-yours. You have anxiety? Really? But, I digress.
The reason I've called you here today is to confess my own insanity. No worries, I didn't murder someone and, if I did, I wouldn't plead insane because I don't want to actually admit (verbally) that I am crazy. One day, in order to live a normal life, I'll have to say it out loud to Someone M.D. but until then, I'll let my fingers and keyboard do the talking. I guess the hart part is... getting started.
I guess the best way to explain my life is to break it down to each mental disorder I think I have. The list isn't too terribly long but I still have a few more googles to do before I feel one hundred percent comfortable with what's going on in this noodle of mine. I guess the most prominent one is paranoia. When I say most prominent, I mean this is the one that affects me most of the time and it's honestly the one I'm most comfortable explaining - which I'll glady explain after I list. The other one is bipolar disorder. Then comes depression
