Having a mental illness is one thing, having several and being utterly aware of them and unable to do anything about it, is something completely different. My genes are mostly to blame apparently, with mental illness on both sides of my parents families and themselves. Bipolar was apparently inevitable, anxiety comes with the territory of my most recent circumstance and the depression following all the deaths that have happened recently and the traumatic events as well. But now there is a talk of a personality disorder. Already being all too aware of the current mental illnesses, I am getting wary and frankly it’s giving me a headache. Medication after medication after medication. Wouldn’t be surprised if the side effects all got together and threw a party. I know some already have. I slur my words, slow eye movement, occasional twitching of eyes and limbs and eye pain, stiff muscles, especially my neck, forgetting things. Mostly recent things, hard to recall a lot of thing, like fuzz has invaded my brain and coated my thought process with glue. Everything is stuck in place and very confusing, especially in the morning. I wake up confused almost every morning, either not knowing where I am or what is happening, sometimes thinking I am still dreaming. The later it gets at night, the harder it is to tell between reality and a nightmare. My bipolar has been showing itself a lot more lately and it scares me how easily I can see what is happening or about to happen and how little to no control I have over it. I get angry and irritated and I don’t have a particular reason at the time of the outburst but I can feel the emotion to m core, like I know I have to be this way. But I do bot now why. I am to aware of when things happen. I can recognize and try to explain to people. Not as an excuse of my actions but an explanation so maybe they won’t take anything I say or do or seem personal. Because it’s not. Sure I have meds. Yay. They help me slightly with my sleep and mellowing my moods. But it will never make them dissipate as a whole. I’m still on this roller coaster of bullshit, until it eventually crashes and explodes. With my anxiety and depression sitting comfortably in the seats behind me. Bipolar my passenger or me it’s passenger and now personality disorder hanging on to the back screaming for a seat. I don’t want a place for it. I want it to not exist for me, to fall off the high tracks into the nothingness below. Fading away like my memories and accounts of the current reality. My brain is already going in fast forward slow motion, it can’t handle being in two places at once. I feel it might give in and then give out and here I will be watching the cart fall off the tracks into the abyss, right with my sanity. Then me, sitting in a chair by a window, a blanket placed over my shoulders, staring at the birds and the trees as my drool tip taps onto the ground. My brain is an intricate weave of woven layers of mass reality, memories, conflict, vocabulary, oversight and understanding. Even now with all these medications the layers crumble and swirl into a colossal mess of shit that I can’t access or see clearly. My ind confuses me, yet I understand the confusion but cannot see through it to fix it or control what happens. It all plays out as it wants with or without my input. It’s fucking insane, insanity controls my life some moments. Not having control over your own thoughts and actions is fucking madness and unbelievably horrifying. I want my mind back, but it doesn’t work that way. So I get to live with this for the rest of my life. Only trying to find a more enticing understanding and how to resolve certain outcomes and symptoms. How to be more me, more and not let my mental illnesses control my life or how I live it. No matter the waves of anxiety, crippling bouts of depression or magnitude of a manic episode, I will find a way to work with my demons and not let them be my demise. I have them, they do not have me.