Better by Lilliah Garron
Isn ’ t it funny how you are to blame for your mental health ? Even when your mind is so far out of your control that there is no way it could be your fault .
You aren ’ t alone when you try to drown everything in music and tears and words that don ’ t make sense to anyone but you .
Your therapist tells you to recite a serenity prayer when you ’ re getting worked up , but when you mutter it people think you ’ re talking badly about them .
And yet again , you have to remember that you are out of control of your mind . It is in a loop , it is stuck . And you do not know how to pull it out . You look to your parents . Your family . Your therapist . They ’ re supportive . But they don ’ t fully understand . They can ’ t .
Your old therapist once said that your mind is complex and brilliant , and because it ’ s so complex , these things take a while to work out . She said geniuses have their faults . You laughed when she called you a genius . As if , you thought .
When you switched therapists , you were nervous . Part of your issue was that you would shut down a lot . You were worried that you wouldn ’ t be able to open your mouth without crying when you saw this new therapist . And how were you supposed to fix yourself if you couldn ’ t even talk ?
When you were eight , your mother told you that you used to have Sensory Processing Disorder . You asked her why she said used to . She said you didn ’ t have it anymore . But the books she gave you said that you can ’ t outgrow or cure SPD . You never told her that , though . Let her think I ’ m fixed , you thought . It ’ ll stop her from worrying .
Later , you wondered if she knew what you knew . You wondered if she was lying to protect you or herself .
When you were thinking of switching schools , your mom wanted you to switch . Your dad didn ’ t . He didn ’ t like change . You were stuck . “ It ’ s up to you ,” they cooed . They tried to recruit you to their sides . “ It ’ ll be good for you ,” They would whisper .
Somewhere during all that , someone told you that you had clinical anxiety . That meant panic attacks . That meant sweating and worrying your nights away , lying awake , staring at the ceiling . That meant ugly crying for hours , that meant sleeping for too long or too short . That meant therapists with strategies and doctorates in psychology .
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