Around this time last year, my mind fractured. It started slow; a crack here, a crack there. I shook it off, saying, I can handle it. It’s spring! This is the time when it gets easier. I just need to take deep breaths and think happy thoughts. Touch grass. Take walks.

For a little while I was able to live in the in-between; the place that exists where the light and dark almost touch. It’s fragile, that place. Fleeting. Requiring all things to go just so, one slip and I’ll fall. But what you need to know about the in-between is that it’s a one way ticket. There isn’t a return to the light option, but the masquerade has already begun. The foxes lead me down the path, giving me false hope of rescue.

Then one day, He appeared. The Dark Demon smiled, bent down, and ever so gently whispered platitudes into my ear. All is well now. He has the antidote to the pain. He loves me. He tenderly slipped his hand into mine and, together, we walked to the Good Ideas Fairy. Her honeyed words were the balm to my broken soul. She will guide me. All is well now. And I looked up into her etherial face, a lighthouse in the storm, and I nodded my head. This is the way. It’s going to be fine now. All is well.

Remember those fractures? The moment I pledged allegiance to the Creatures, the cracks give way. Darkness flooded in with the force of a thousand tsunamis. I had reached the point of no return and I fell, tumbled down the rabbit hole. I drank the potion on the table, I went through the door, I followed the Creatures. Deeper, deeper. Until it was so dark that I lost sight of the hands in front of my face. And, oh, the pain. Excruciating. But they promised to care for me. Release the suffering. All is well. All should be well. Why isn’t all well?

Now, I’m lucky. As fate would have it, I just so happened to have a therapy appointment booked on the day the dam broke. The last piece of my shattered mind falling to the ground. She was the voice of reason. The real voice of reason. And because I’d started losing my sense of real vs imaginary, I blindly followed her. Come back to the light, Katie. You have options, Katie. I have you, Katie. This is the plan for the next minute, hour, day, Katie. And I nodded. I said okay.

Shortly after that appointment, I found myself sitting in another comfortable chair, in another office, meeting my new psych NP. and after I told her how scared I am. Of myself. How I’m unsure how to get my feet back on terra firma. That the blurred outline of reality is deceiving. That the Dark Demon and the Good Ideas Fairy were camped out in the waiting room. That they had some pretty strong opinions about my meds and why I don’t need them. And you know what my psych NP said? She looked me right in my face and said, “Oh I don’t tolerate those voices. I’m their worst nightmare. I will tell you what’s real and what’s not real.” Yep. Someday I will find the right words to tell her that she was the first person to unsheathe her sword for me. I was going to be okay. All was going to be well with time. She was going to place the correct potion on the table, show me the right door to walk though, give me the ladder to climb out of the rabbit hole. Yeah. Eventually I’ll figure out a more normal and socially acceptable way of saying all of that to her.

So, two weeks ago, the system started to shift off the axis, unbalancing just enough to cause the first crack. A slight thing. Barely a fracture. A stomach ache here, a migraine there. Waking up with a disturbing level of anxiety, quite literally moments after opening my eyes, though, that’s when I knew it was time. On went the blinders, the noise cancelling headphones, blocking the sound of approaching heavy boots and rustle of wings.

And wouldn’t you know it, I happened to have appointments scheduled this week with both my therapist and psych NP. A new concoction was brewed. A new plan established. And I did everything I could to suppress the cringe. More meds are fine, Katie. Trust the process, Katie. You are still worthy, Katie. You are not less than. You’re making good choices. Responsible choices. Trying to stay ahead of it.

So here I am to remind you that it’s a journey and a journey is never a straight line. There are curves, bumps, unpredictable weather. We need to be ready to adapt, do what needs to be done. Put our faith in our providers. Does this mean you have to trust them implicitly? No. You are ultimately the captain of your ship. Just remember that those providers are the experts at ensuring that the ship doesn’t capsize. The plan is going to change. The meds might also change. That’s okay. It’s a process. All is well.

Thank you for reading. As always, if you feel comfortable sharing or are in need of support, don’t hesitate to reach out. We are a community. We all deserve fellowship, acceptance, and kindness.