There are plenty of definitions of mental illnesses out there. I can offer you nothing new in this regard. What I can offer is a depiction of what these illnesses look like in my life. I spend each day battling various forms of anxiety, severe depression, and bipolar disorder. These labels are massive, and they sit on my shoulders like 500 pound weights. Some days, I can barely stand.

This is what it’s like:

Anxiety is overthinking.

It’s throwing rationality out the window, hoping it’ll come back like a boomerang. It’s avoiding others like the plague, but always wondering what they think about me. It’s calling out of work because seeing another face would trigger an anxiety attack. It’s always assuming the worst. It’s mindlessly picking at my fingernails because I simply can’t calm my mind. Anxiety means constant fear. It means worry. It means expending every last drop of energy by 10:00 am because the world is too much to take in. It’s weeks of insomnia, wondering if I’ll ever sleep again. It’s constant planning for every possible outcome and then some. It’s always having my ducks in a row. Anxiety is exhausting.

Depression is tears falling.

It is days in bed. It’s self-harm central. It’s avoiding mirrors and forgetting to brush my hair. It’s clamming up when I really should be talking. Depression is not imagining a future. It is simply the here and now. It’s pulling my hair and clenching my scalp, hoping whatever demons have made a home will move out. It’s feeling like you’re drowning on land. Depression is wondering if life is worth living.

Bipolar disorder is unpredictability.

It is being high as a kite for a day and a half, and screaming for help from rock bottom for the next five. It’s getting things done like a rockstar, passion shining through the dark clouds. It’s waking up to hopelessness and despair the very next day, accomplishing nothing and feeling like a complete failure. It’s being a rapid cycler, never being able to keep up with my own moods. It’s longing for mania and feelings of success. It means starting endless projects with amazing intentions and never completing them. because there’s there’s never enough time between cycles. It means appreciating the ups and dreading the downs.

Mental illness is painful.

It’s hanging by a thread, hoping it won’t fray. It’s handfuls of happy pills that only scratch the surface. It’s vomiting, headaches, and back pain. It’s struggling to get up in the morning and wishing it were already bedtime. It’s wanting to be numb and feel it all. It means staying quiet and living with the stigmas. Mental illness is a war zone with a single soldier. Most of all, mental illness means simply trying to survive the day.