I am quiet, but I am not ashamed. I had a major psychological break and I am suffering from mental illness. I’m not hiding it. Im not ashamed. I’m not weak. I didn’t fail. I don’t feel any shame or stigma in admitting it or talking about it. I’m just not able to explain very well yet…complex feelings and I have only very simple words that go away. It’s hard to hold onto thoughts. I have moments of clarity…and then they’re gone. I’m irrational at times, I suddenly cry. I have outbursts of emotion that I can’t control and I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want them to hurt me either. I feel paranoid that they planned this. I get trapped in reruns of the past, and paralysed by fear of the future. Or that there isn’t one. I feel worthless and lost and so very tired. But then my child comes to ask for a hug and I know I’m important and needed and it’s mental illness that’s making me feel this way. I’m taking seroquel which is both an antidepressant and antipsychotic. Like every other disease or syndrome or set of symptoms I’ve been dealt I’m doing my best. I’m quiet. But I am not ashamed.