Something I've wrestled with my entire life.
Now I do (did) have periods of relief either through hormones or medication.
But medicine that once worked wore away. Nothing has come close to replacing it. The littany of meds they have tried to see if I could even tolerate them is extensive. Most caused excessive sleep. An anti anxiety med helped me, but since it is used by those without prescriptions the DEA pressures doctors that prescribe it. So they don't prescribe it.
This doesn't mean I'm sad all the time. Or that I can't have fun. But at times it can interfere with my responses to fun. Which if I'm with others gets noticed.
In other words I can't make my self be happy, even in optimal circumstances my brain chemistry will not allow it.
Most of the time I'm in a general malaise, not wanting to do anything. And wanting is an incorrect word, I want and need to get things done. Just the act of getting dressed or gathering my things becomes an insurmountable task that I'm ill prepared for.
But after I've experienced stress and have addressed the cause of the stress, removing it, a grief takes hold.
The grief is proportional to the size and duration of the stress. Sometimes it is just a passing grief as one endures when a distant friend or relative is lost. But when it is bad, Dementors sucking in my life force and leaving an empty shell is how I begin and end my days. Even on the brightest days there is a flock of them ready to pounce upon any positive endorphins that might refresh me. A vortex of irritabilty, anger, and rage is kept bubbling inside of me when my circuits overload and I can no longer make sense of what I'm trying to accomplish.
I don't really ponder what it would be like to not have mental illness. I don't know what I'm missing. But I do know I is something I will never be able to cure.
9:34 PM PT (MTmofo): Horace has gone to bed. Per his comment.