I have never truly understood why someone would want to 'glorify' a mental illness. Because there is no true 'glory' to it. There is no glory waking up and knowing that you have to put twice as much effort as anyone else just to get through the day because all you'd really like to do is wither away in bed. There is no glory in constantly being reminded about all of your failures and how you weren't good enough to keep his interest.

No, there is no glory in that.

There is no glory that stems from the broken relationships that your illness causes and the pain that you live with every single day because you know exactly why it ended, but your brain wants you to consider every other little detail that it could also have entailed. It's not fun to have to separate your mind from your illness; in fact, it's painful. Sitting there in the middle of the night trying to remember what you know is real and what you know is just this damn piece of you trying to get you to break. Where is the glory in your mind being your own personal bully?

No, there is no glory in that.

But people that do this 'glorification' don't really get it. They don't understand and go through what it is to truly be at war with yourself. They see the fight, and they see the strength that it takes to not rip yourself apart every second of the day and, I've got to tell you – strength? That shit to someone who goes through this each and every day – strength is a fairytale. But a fairytale that we read to ourselves every day to get through one and into another. And there is glory I suppose in believing that having this kind of strength, makes you, stronger.

I don't always then feel that much stronger. I don't feel strength when my vision gets blurry and all I can think about is etching lines of red into my skin. And I don't feel strength when I wake up in a sweat because I thought I felt his breath on my thigh again. And I don't feel strength in the sadness and regret I feel every single morning that I actually wake up. Because it just means I have to do it again.

And there's definitely no glory to that.

It's been about 5 or so years since I didn't die on my last attempt. But it doesn't mean in those 5 or so years I haven't thought about it. Not so much as what I would do, or how it would go. I just thought of the pure, blissful feeling of just not having any feelings; of not existing at all. And to my family, to my therapist, there's no glory to that.

Mental illness isn't just a two or three year phase like the emo one you go through in middle school where "Nobody understands". It's the whole damn rest of your life. Which is why I think about when the end of that will be from time to time.

And that's scary..that's not glory.

A lot of people will ask you, doctors especially, when you have mental illness is 'when did I start?' And there are a lot of factors that can go in to the development of a mental illness, but in some ways, you know it's always been there. I could blame it on my childhood, saying that I was bullied, or molested by my best friend in first grade, or my first boyfriend, or my first experience of forced sex, or the first time I cut my arms, or injured myself because it actually felt pretty good to be in pain somewhere else besides my mind.

Is there glory in that? Honestly?

Is there glory to having to go through 10x the things your grandmother and grandfather could ever fathom, so that your family just doesn't tell them? Is there glory in having to wear sleeves in the summertime when you're visiting because you know, and your family knows, that they just wouldn't understand. There is no glory in losing the closeness of people because you know you just can't fully explain why.

And let me tell you, the question of "Why" gets thrown around a lot when you get deep enough in the mental disintegration pool.

"Why do you have scars on your arms and legs?"

"Why are you upset so much"

"Why are you so quiet"

"Why do you seem depressed"

"Why do you start to shake when you hear that song by Bruno Mars?"

"Why can't you work at your job without crumpling on the floor in agony?"

"Why?"

And to be honest with you, for most of these, the only straight answer I can give them is a shrug. Because it beats me as to why my mind does this, or why I can't function fully as a normal human being. But I damn wish I could.

So I guess there's glory in that.

There's glory in imagining where your life would be without having this big, black hole in your mind, or the endless knot in your stomach, or the consistent anxiety to what anyone else is thinking, or saying, or doing.

There's glory in glorifying the healthy I suppose? Those that can move on fairly quickly after being hurt, those who can use that fairytale strength as a weapon to actually overcome hurdles. Glory in not feeling worthless 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. Glory in not wondering the next time someone is going to hurt you and how long your heart will hurt while you forgive them and allow them to keep hurting you. Glory in not wishing you didn't exist.

But, there's no 'off' button to mental illness. Some days I handle it better than others, sometimes I fly off the fricken handle. And there is no glory to either of those days, because they are both so exhausting.

So don't glorify me. Don't glorify my pain. Because I wish I didn't have it.