There is a sadness that underlies all things I do. It is my dominant emotion. Somewhere, maybe, there is a universe or a parallel where I am whole. I don’t want to be living my life overrun with emotional strife or conflict, yet here I am, embroiled in it once again. Living with mental health issues really is a battle. Each day is a fight. Whether it’s getting out of bed to face the world, to connect with myself, to fight off a panic attack, taking a look at my behavior, hovering over a toilet, deciding whether or not to overeat, taking responsibility for my actions, deciding to meditate, talking myself out of suicide (again) as an option, or reminding myself that I am still breathing and there is nothing really to be worrying about, there’s always a thing. And it’s exhausting. When I am spiritually connected, I don’t struggle as much. But ever since I started being honest with myself about how much I battle with suicidal ideation, I haven’t been able to return to my baseline level of sanity. It’s slowly driving me crazy. There’s always been a place in my brain that’s convinced someday I will do the worst, but a bigger part of me that knows that isn’t who I really am and it sure as hell isn’t my legacy. We all need to feel something. My something is relationships. They make me feel connected and needed and loved. So not being in one is hard. Difficult. Impossible. But here I am and here I will remain. Single and off to college to get my degree and along the way to try and be open about what it’s really like to struggle with mental health. Because it’s not pretty. It’s draining and sad and frustrating and no one wants to talk about that part of it. Of course I want to be normal. But maybe normal isn’t an option for some of us. Those of us that are just trying to stay alive. If you’re reading this, keep on fighting. I promise I will too.