The Ride

Imagine that you are on a roller coaster. Feeling the excitement as it climbs up. It’s a slow crawl to the top but once you’re there you can finally breathe. You can see the whole world from up here. It’s beautiful. You smile to the people around you and then before you know it, with no warning, you are plummeting to the bottom of this roller coaster. Your stomach falling to your feet. Your heart beating out of your chest. You are unsure whether you will make it out alive. You are screaming and reaching out your hand to grab hold of something.  Checking to make sure the people around you are still there. Your roller coaster ride should be coming to an end now but what if it doesn’t? Imagine still that you are on a roller coaster ride but there is no end in sight. You are stuck to relive this climb just to be dropped to the bottom quicker than even you saw coming. Over and over again. It doesn’t stop, it doesn’t slow down. You enjoyed the ride at first but now you are tired and sick and you want to get off this roller coaster but you are doomed to be stuck on it for the rest of your life. This is what mental illness is often like for me. Like I am stuck on a ride that I don’t remember buying a ticket for. Constantly shifting from lows to highs to low again. And well let’s be honest, there is a hell of a lot more lows.

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