The dreaded waiting room. It's the worst. Not only because of the waiting, but because of the emotions, memories, and flashbacks that come rushing in. I am no longer the "community support worker," carrying all the paper work in my black, ringed calendar. I am not there to support a "client;" rather I am the patient.
Four and a half years and I am back in the waiting room, waiting to see the psychiatrist. Not just any psychiatrist, but MY psychiatrist. This waiting area is really no different than any other Dr's waiting area, but yet it feels different.
"I'm crazy, no I'M not crazy; but these people waiting with me THEY are crazy. I shouldn't be here. How does this happen? Why am I here?"
My thoughts stop. It hits me. We are all people, people suffering from mental illness. Illness does not discriminate and nor should I. It happens, it sucks but it happens. I count my blessings and say a prayer for those around me that are waiting. I am one of them, and it's okay. We are all people just trying to get thru life. So what? I am sitting in the waiting room, waiting too. Waiting to see MY psychiatrist. Yes life is crazy, but I am not. I suffer with mental illness but I am not mentally ill. The illness does not make me ME; it does not define me. I am fearfully and wonderfully made in the eyes of my maker and crazy is obliviously okay with HIM so it's okay with me too.
Four and a half years and I am back in the waiting room, waiting to see the psychiatrist. Not just any psychiatrist, but MY psychiatrist. This waiting area is really no different than any other Dr's waiting area, but yet it feels different.
"I'm crazy, no I'M not crazy; but these people waiting with me THEY are crazy. I shouldn't be here. How does this happen? Why am I here?"
My thoughts stop. It hits me. We are all people, people suffering from mental illness. Illness does not discriminate and nor should I. It happens, it sucks but it happens. I count my blessings and say a prayer for those around me that are waiting. I am one of them, and it's okay. We are all people just trying to get thru life. So what? I am sitting in the waiting room, waiting too. Waiting to see MY psychiatrist. Yes life is crazy, but I am not. I suffer with mental illness but I am not mentally ill. The illness does not make me ME; it does not define me. I am fearfully and wonderfully made in the eyes of my maker and crazy is obliviously okay with HIM so it's okay with me too.