The Invisible Costs of Living with Mental Illness

Let’s talk about what last week cost me

1. Two kitchen hooks that were holding up the aprons I never use, but I wanted them because that’s what good moms own and wear.
2. A bunch of bananas, a loaf of bread, two bunches of broccoli, one pound of carrots, one bag of baby carrots, and half a gallon of white milk.
3. Two EveryPlate meals.
4. One package of steaks from EveryPlate that was meant to be cooked for dinner with the broccoli and carrots. Oh, and the onion on the counter that is probably bad now. Crap.
5. The mystery bin. I keep my children’s snacks in bins. There shouldn’t be an empty bin. See Photos Below.
6. An additional bounty of spoiled produce (4 peppers, one head of lettuce, another bag of carrots, one jar of salsa, and several Tupperware containers hidden in the back of the fridge, discovered during a brief manic cleaning episode.
7. And, as I was wrapping up the trash bag full of overconsumption, my eyes spied two food containers on a kitchen pile. Cupcakes meant to be eaten on Easter that got lost in my haze and emotional turmoil.

I don’t know how other people deal with this, but about once a week, I have a moment of lucidity from my multitude of mental illnesses. During this moment of clarity, I must clean up the mess of the week before. It turns in to a race to see how much I can get done before the mental illness creeps back in and knocks me back to the ground.

During this frenzy, I am forced to come to terms with my disease. The binge shopping sprees, the fast-food trips, movies, dispensary trips, middle-of-the-afternoon tantrums, and those “special” expenses reserved for when I particularly despise myself and my brain tells me the only solution to ebb the flow of tears is to buy *new shiny shit* to add to the already accumulating piles of *slightly less new but still practically shiny and untouched shit*.

I interrupt to announce that the purpose of the mystery bin has been discovered. It had candy in it. Now, it goes into the “needs a new home” pile. Yay (*sighs in exasperated sobs).

When I discuss the cost of the week, I’m not talking about money. I probably spent hundreds of dollars last week on things I didn’t need. But the emotional cost is far greater.

I spend hours every day either crying or being so completely numb and empty that I couldn’t cry to save my life. The back-and-forth whiplash is exhausting.

Last week, I didn’t break anything of importance. YAY! But, before we celebrate, I should confess that I did break several things. I just wasn’t emotionally attached to any of the items. I will replace them, but I won’t cry about them again.

It’s terrible that this is how low the bar is set.

Does anyone else struggle with this? How do you deal with the emotions that come with missing part of your life?

Until Next Time,

Cathy Marie Bown