I believe that mental illness is probably one of the hardest things to live with. It's something that many people are born with and it can be very hard to overcome. It's known to be a disease that people who don't have it will never understand and for people who have it, struggle to get rid of it everyday.

From a very young age, I have struggled with depression, mood swings, and anxiety. Almost every single day would include me wondering what other people are thinking about me or whether I am worthy enough to even be loved by the people who are closest to me.

Back in high school, I began getting swings of depression and unstable emotions that would last weeks and sometimes even months at a time. I don't know how to describe it other than my whole body would just shut down - I wouldn't want to talk to family or friends, I wouldn't want to eat or sometimes be eating more than usual, but most importantly, I couldn't feel - both physically and emotionally. My smile slowly transformed into a mask that I wore to conceal my insecurities. I felt very alone and misunderstood. I always remember myself looking in the mirror and not being able to recognize the body that was standing directly in front of me. Sometimes when I would speak, I felt like I had no control over what was happening or coming out of my mouth; I felt as if it were a demon had taken over my body and mind. Life was a blur.

In the past three years, I've been hospitalized twice for suicide attempt. After seeing a psychiatrist and many different psychologists, I am now diagnosed with Bipolar 2 disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, and Anxiety Disorder. I've been taking medications for about two maybe three years now but am still so inconstant with it. I go through these times where I feel like I'm a normal person with normal emotions and no longer need the medications I take daily but within a few weeks or maybe even months, things start to go down hill and it really starts to effect my everyday life, my relationships with friends and family, my decisions and my school work.

I was and still am terrified of being happy and mentally healthy. For so long I had lived so far from both of these concepts. And now that I really think about it, I don't know how long I've been mentally sick for. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder about two years ago. However my symptoms were present long before I was diagnosed. I guess I didn't really know what they meant.

Fast forward to first semester or college and where I am now in this current moment, I still have suicidal thoughts, depressed, and still worry about every little thing. I kept so many secrets from my friends and those I loved, trying to maintain my "perfect" image; trying to convince everyone, including myself that I am and was okay.

Here are the facts: I will get sick again. If I don't take my medications, I most likely won't make it through a day without a mental breakdown or an outburst. I have to go to bed early. I experience brain fog and brain headaches (a lot). Those are all the things that used to infuriate me. Now? They're part of my radical acceptance of my condone.

I am not okay and learning that its okay not to be okay. Daily recovery is just as imperfect as sickness. You try things, they fail, You try things, they might work. Lately I've been seeing life as trial and error. I am slowly but surely accepting the fact that I do not control my illness, but at the same time, my illness can't control me.