Justin-East

It has ever ruled my life. I’ve often regarded it as being entirely separate from my true self: a cruel, vicious, spiteful thing attached to me like a malignant tumor. Except…that’s not entirely true. It’s me. It’s only me. Has always been, and always will be. I’ve never been one to shy away from the topic of mental illness. Depression, bipolar disorder, general anxiety disorder, severe agoraphobia. And now, schizophrenia. The word involuntarily elicits images of a babbling madman imprisoned within a Lovecraftian asylum. Is this to be my fate? I certainly hope not. While I’m mostly convinced it’s an unlikely possibility, I’ve not told many people out of fear of it coming true nonetheless. Envisioning myself being handcuffed and placed in the back of a police car like a criminal makes broaching the subject something of an unnecessary risk. A more compassionate response would simply be a crisis averted. And so, for months I told no one. Definitely not something worth sharing