You Will Never Understand “My Tired”


You will never understand “my tired.” When I say I am tired it is not because I stayed up too late or woke to early, or exercised to hard that day.  I am not tired because I was out with friends all night.

I am tired of being me; I am tired of the constant noise that is my mind, the rollercoaster of thoughts and moods.  I am tired because I am fighting with something every day.

Living with mental illness is not fun; it is a daily struggle, a love-hate relationship with myself. Sometimes, it is fearing my own mind.

When I say “I am tired,” I can feel the fatigue in my bones, in my soul. It is a tired, which never goes away. It is exhausting battling something that you cannot see, but you know that you cannot let it win.

The days that I have to put on my pretty face, my mask of happiness and pretend that everything is perfectly okay in my world, are the hardest.

No one knows how hard I am working every damn day. I don’t get a break. I never get a moment’s rest.

You see, I am alright with that. This is a disease that wants to rob me of everything that I will experience tomorrow. It wants me to give up, it wants my life.

But, I am not going to let it. I am going to fight it one day at a time, and every day that I fight will be the fight of my life.

So, when I say “I am tired,” know that I mean it, know that I am fighting to make sure that I can say “I am tired,” another day.