"Do you ever wish you didn't have anxiety?"

The answer is yes, I do. Lately, I've been going through a patch of getting angry about the fact that my brain can't keep itself in check. The thing I try to remember, though, is this: if I didn't have anxiety or depression, I wouldn't care so much about a lot of the things I'm currently doing or want to do.

So sure, it's not exactly fun when I end up on the floor of a concert venue with a panic attack. It's not fun to wake up fighting for breath. It's not fun to lie in bed in the morning and have zero motivation to do anything.

But those are the rough patches. The good stuff is when I can have a conversation about mental illness with people, and be able to talk about the bits that aren't covered in the textbooks. I get to watch peoples' faces as they begin to understand me and others around them a little bit better.

It's a tough one. Nobody wants to feel the way a mental health lapse causes them to feel. Not ever. But at the same time, I wouldn't be writing these blog posts if it wasn't for my mental illness. So in a roundabout way, I'm actually kind of grateful for it all.