Each day I wake up and roll the dice.
These aren’t your regular dice. These are special mental illness dice.
Sometimes I roll a good day. These days I don’t doubt myself, and I am not exhausted from fighting my brain.
Sometimes I roll a bad day, and I want to crawl back into bed. These days I am at my most vulnerable. You won’t know when I am having these days, because I’ll hide it.
Most days I roll a mediocre day. I will get through it without too much self doubt. My brain will try its best to beat me down, but I will have just enough fight in me to fend off the negativity.
Thankfully, it’s been along time since I haven’t wanted to roll the dice at all. Those days are dangerous because I am at the bottom of the rabbit hole and can’t see my way out. Fuck the dice, how about a goddamn rope to pull me up.
I know that some will say “Why do you even have these dice?”
I need them.
These dice are my saving grace some days.
They allow me the opportunity to face down what may inevitably screw me over. I can be my own worst enemy. If I know what lies ahead, I can prepare myself.
So, I guess you can say they’re a part of my toolbox. Like my meds they can’t cure my mental illness, but they can help me navigate it.
And if you’re wondering, my dice are purple 😉