That's the thing

 There are way too many wannabe mental illness patients in the world to get anywhere as someone who is actually messed up in the head. It seems everyone wants to be fucked up in some way or another because it gets them attention. 

When there is actually something wrong with you it's a lot harder to get the help you need. These fakers have the world thinking that there are magic pills that make it all go away. But when you really have issues these fakes flock to you to take notes to pretend harder. 

But the minute something happens and it triggers your real mental problems and that anxiety and inability to control your own brain takes over and they are not being center of attention or your actual real-life anxiety looks scary to them they freak out and become victims of some imaginary bullshit they pretend you did to them. 

When you have real mental illnesses you tend to be alone because you can't handle the shit yourself. But also because nobody wants to be there for you. You are expected to always be the one helping others cope with their made-up little issues. But nobody is every willing to be there for you. 

Shit that happened recently proved to me that I can never trust anyone in my life to actually consider me an equal. Not even the man I married. I should just spend the remainder of my life alone because I am always alone when I need someone to be there for me. It's during those times I am expected to go numb to my own feelings and be the one taking care of everyone. 

I have serious mental issues stemming from my real-life loss of a child. Not made-up anxiety I want to get attention for. I try to fight it and not let it get the better of me. But being 1,447 miles away from one when they get seriously hurt stimulates that anxiety to a point I can't control it. I was already on edge when I let others talk me into continuing the trip to move my daughter in with my son. Because my 6 yr old was ok and his sisters were babying him after getting dog attacked. 

That trip continued to move her. We only had a few hours left to go so we'd drop her off and figure it out from there. BUT again I let others convince me I was overreacting to things. I was told that I was overthinking the situation. I was reminded that my oldest son, whom I had not spent time with in months, was taking the time off. So catch 22. I needed to be home with the one who got hurt, but I also wanted to spend time with my son who had taken time off. 

Those plans were thrown off by auto issues. It would have been too late to continue with the camping plans we had. So they decided on heading home. I felt a little better. We decided to go to Denver and stop for the night and spend a little time in that town until the next day. But that didn't happen, instead, the other all decided to spend the day driving to various weed dispensaries and collecting a massive amount of weed. EVEN my husband wanted to do that. One or two on the way looking at the botanical gardens or another site would have been reasonable but literally, the only plans made were to go to weed stores. The zoo was pointed out too late to actually go. 

My legs were already filling with fluid from so much car time. I don't know why but they do that. It fucking hurts so bad so I was already in a bad mood from being in pain. The next morning we finally headed home. But my legs were still swollen. We hit another weed dispensary. As far as I know, that is all that is in Denver. This whole trip my anxiety and pain level has been barely containable. I heard the others suggesting going through Tennessee to get home. I know that way and its pretty straight forward highway driving. 

When it got dark I wanted to stop and get a hotel. My husband ignored me and said we were just going to drive. My legs were starting to split open they were so swollen, but I managed to fall asleep thinking when I woke up I'd be closer to home. Closer to be with my kids and to baby the one who got hurt and had to have stitches in his face. Unfortunately, I fell asleep and someone made the choice to leave the highway. I wake up to find we are lost in the middle of nowhere. The person driving says her GPS isn't working right. My husband tells her to pull over at a gas station and he'll take over driving. I wasn't allowed to drive most of the trip because my driving is "scary and too fast". So I told him to go into the gas station and ask how to get to the highway. Highways in this state have boosters for google maps GPS. You can't get lost on them. 

He comes back out and tells me the gas station clerk said the highway was one way. BUT the minute he pulls out he completely ignores those directions and starts following the imaginary GPS from the other person. She starts freaking out saying to turn around. He does a U-turn and smacks head-on into a huge yellow van. Our car is totaled. I had no idea where I was because I had no cell phone signal. I didn't even know which way to walk or even how far from home I was because I fucking fell asleep.  

That was it I lost my mind. Apparently, I yelled at everyone. I wanted to know why we were where we were and where the fuck that was. Nobody seemed to know where that was and all I got for why we left the highway was "I don't know". I remember her claiming to know the way she was going but I guess that was a lie. I freaked out because all I could think when the State Trooper left us on the side of the road with no car, and no phone service was that I was never going home. I was going to never see my kids again. 

I had to walk a mile back to the gas station we stopped at in 102-degree heat with splitting, swollen legs and feet, and anxiety that I had nobody to call to come help. The other people in the car apparently had a signal and called for a ride BUT they left me there. They just left because I yelled during a stressful time that caused my mental issues to peek. They are literally acting like the wreck and the way I handled that trauma is the most horrible thing I could do. 

The worst part is having my husband, the person who claims to understand my issues and my triggers tell me I handled it wrong. That the way I acted was mean and uncalled for. I don't know how it works for others but when I have a mental break and my mental illness takes over I can't control my self very well. I think not beating the face off the chick, who was in my face saying "I'm sorry, blah blah blah" like I wanted to, very good control. 

But what the fuck kind of generation can't handle someone yelling during a seriously traumatic experience? And what kind of man abandons his wife during that event? I feel like I would make everything better if I just didn't live anymore. Like the anxiety that consumes me daily wouldn't affect others so badly if I wasn't here. Like the way I can't handle myself to take care of everyone else during that anxiety would be so much better for everyone in my life if I was no longer their problem. 

Oh but saying that hurts them too. How do you turn off existing without dying because others' feelings matter more and you can't take care of them if you have your own? Other people are so much more important than personal emotions and feelings. When you have mental illness all you do is hurt the others around you no matter what you do. 

Mental illness is lonely.