“JUST GET OVER IT.”

“Brit, why can’t you just appreciate what is around you. Why do you always have to be so negative?”

I’ve heard this from about everyone I’ve ever known. And to be quite honest every single damn time I hear this phrase, I want to punch whoever said that square in the face and say, “Bitch you don’t think I know that?”

I don’t try to be negative. All I want is for the rainbows to be bright and enjoy the crisp air around me. All I want is to express joy rather than denial, shame, and guilt.

And fuck do I try to feel joy. I try to open my exhausted, hazel eyes wide and scream at myself, “JUST BE HAPPY.” All I want is to be happy.

But fuck man, Her, my lovely voice who plays daily in my head. At times, no matter how hard I try, she defeats my every positive thought or technique.

And once Her begins to play tag your it, all the other Minions follow. And Her’s favorite friendamy is of course Anxiety. And when those two combine their forces, the kryptonite overtakes suddenly.

And yeah, yeah, yeah I know. Like I’ve been told many times before “You just need to think positive.” “Time heals all wounds.” Or my uppermost favorite, “Just get over it already.”

And the funny part of it all, is I try. I try so damn hard. I have a job. A loving relationship. A family who wants to start a new chapter. I honestly do have more than I could ever desire.

But then comes Her screaming into my pale, cold ears, “Your own mother doesn’t love you why would your dad?” “Tim is always watching and will never be stopped.” “Why haven’t you kill yourself yet?”

And once Her spins and spins and spins my overwhelmed, confused brain, Anxiety then tip-toes into my thoughts as well. “Tim is stalking you on insta.” “You are two minutes late for work your boss is going to get upset at you, once again.” “You will mess up.”

And when those two spread their love, I just can’t handle it and my brain snaps.

And again I know, “JUST GET OVER IT.”

Fuck, I wish I could. I wish I could move on. But this is life of being bipolar. This is the life of depression. On a bad day.

But there are wonderful days. Days of laughter, peace, and joy. Those are the days I cherish the most. Because for however long that joy decides to last, I feel happiness. My rainbows are bright and the crisp air feels my lungs with an awakening feel of hope. And hope is what makes my shattered heart beat on. And I will continue to beat because fuck even if the happiness is for a split second, it’s all worth it. Life is always worth it.