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Dear world; I have one simple request to ask of you. Please, for the love of everything that is pure and kind: stop calling me weak!

I have a mental illness – that does not make me weak. That makes me nothing but a woman who suffers from an illness. Just like a woman who suffers from diabetes or epilepsy. There are bad days and there are good days, that’s all.

When all I wanna do is sleep all day; I get out of bed – I am not weak. I fight that urge.

When all I wanna do is hide In the house because the world is too scary; I go out with my kids – I am not weak. I fight that urge.

On those days where all I wanna do is scream at the people I love; I fight that urge. I am not weak.

On the days where all I feel is hate; I love especially hard. I fight that urge hard. I am not weak.

Some days; I pass by the kitchen knife block; “hearing” the knives call out to me. Begging me to pick one up and relieve the pain in my heart with just one small nick – one where no one will notice – I fight the urge. I am not weak.

There are days where I make a plan to run away; down to the very last detail. Leave the kids, the husband; live on my own. be my own. But I don’t; I fight the urge. I am not weak.

There are days when smiling physically hurts me, but I fight through. I am not weak.

There are days when all I want to do is die. Where the thought of living another minute is too much to bear; I don’t give up. I fight. I am not weak. I am still here suhckahs. Fighting.

Stop calling me weak.
I am not weak.

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