I often feel that I straddle the line between “truly” disabled and not. Living with mental illness inherently means I live with invisible illnesses.
And unlike others, my illnesses are not severe, and they continue to get milder the longer I’m in treatment. I can easily mask my illnesses and pretend like they don’t impact my life on a day-to-day basis.
I can pretend that I don’t have problems with anxiety and depression on the good days; even on the bad days, I can pretend that everything is fine.
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