It may not sound encouraging to you, but as someone who spent the first 20 years being burdened by their MI, I'm living the dream right now. First, just so you're clear, most MI are lifelong. It's like being an addict, or gay. Its neurochemical, and as in my case, passed theough heredity. Second, I'm fine 95% of the time. I also found out during both my pregnancies, that aside from the hyperemesis, I actually get healthier when I'm pregnant and the effects are long-lasting. I was able to go (psych) med free for both pregnancies, and for 2 years after giving birth to my daughter (1 after my son). Im not even on an anti-depressent. Nary a hint of post-partum depression, which is something I, and my psychiatrist/midwives were very worried about the first time.

I haven't self-harmed in almost 10 years. I havent practiced my ED behavior in 8 years. My MI is well managed, and I'm very aware of when I'm falling down the rabbit hole and need to ask for help. Not to mention, my overall satisfaction with my life. How many people do you know, who are generally happy with their life, as it is and where it's going, at 32? I'm pretty much where I wanted to be, but thought I might never be, at this age.

I'm not referring to the socioeconomic stratum, either. That's helps obviously, and i understand it is a potentially, significant burden to ones overall happiness. However, for full disclosure, because I know that money (and w/ intersectionality race- I'm black btw, location- the DMV, education- 4th gen college grad, 2- grad degree,etc.) can make a big difference in early intervention, overall access to treatments, therapy, medications, hospitals, and the types of institutions you're put in (I did 4 stints), I come from an affluent family.* So while being independently (from my mom, but moreso her sisters) well-off is wonderful, as long as I was doing what I was supposed to (Grades, chores, overall respectful behavior) there wasn't anything I asked for that I didn't get. Except, not being MI, of course.* I think it is especially important to point out, because just like there are those who think that still having MI is the same as still suffering from it, too many people still wonder- in the age of information, advances in psychology, it being repeated in every type of magazine there is (I think I read article or two about it in playboy 10 years ago), the last century of high profile celebrity suicides, and literally being able to "Ask Google/Bixby/Siri/John/Sally/whoever lives in your phone- how people with money can be depressed? SO many people were literally asking this question in a FB group 2 days ago, and only a few people were able/or willing to point out the flawed logic in that question, but I'll put it succinctly, sad =/= depression.* I really expect more from blerds :/. I am overall, happy with my life. I've never been a sad person, but the weight of my anxiety, often dimished the happiness that I found. It effected, my extroverted invtrovert PERSONALITY, to the point that I believed that I would never be able to live life with the carefree nature so many of my peers had. That my mind wouldn't stop cycling long enough, for me to have the great thoughts that I had, without them constantly being interrupted with the anxiety-ridden room. That I would never be able to believe any of the compliments people gave me, that weren't quantifiably proven/provable, like my intelligence. That I would never be able to love someone deeply, because I was always worried that I wasn't doing something right, and subsequently noone would be able to love me deeply- in romantic ways. That I wouldn't be a good mother, due to being distracted by worrying and not fully present, or that I'd be so overprotective that they would feel stifled, and that they'd grow up angry and resentful at best, violent people with personality disorders that couldn't be managed, at worst.

This was one of the most distressing ones for me, because even though growing up I planned on adopting only, I knew I had a lot to offer children. I was such a loved child, by most of my family, but especially my mother. She was selfless and kind as a person in general, but when it came to me, she never made me feel bad or different or wrong. Her father physically abused her mother, and was and alcoholic. I wasn't hit, but she took out her frustration by yelling. Not bad yelling, she wasn't cursing me out or anything, but with my anxiety I took everything to heart and bottled it up. When I was around 10 i started having grand mal seizures, the drs. ran a bunch of tests, and they figured it was due to stress. So back to therapy I went, but I wasn't talking, and even if I was I probably wouldn't have been able to answer the question. However, when asked about stress, she admitted she yelled. When they told her to stop, she did. I didn't realize how significant that was until as I got older, and saw how a lot of the things my peers were struggling with were dismissed for one reason or another, by their parents. I knew that the fact that she took away her frustration outlet, without hesitation, and never yelled at me again, that was something really special. And as I'm a firm believer that the only way to counteract the assholes being raised in this world is to raise non-assholes, I wanted to bring this type of love and understanding to my children.

She's actually the only reason I never contemplated suicide. She didn't pressure me to choose one path or the other, she said that as long as I was happy, she was happy, much to the chagrin of her much more successful older sisters. She had me, and got a graduate degree in Spec.Ed., despite the fact that she was a journalist giving up her spot on the local news- also, much to the chagrin of her childless-by-choice-ish, more successful sisters who never forgave her, and continued to look down on her/give her grief about it for decades. That is until she "finally" hit upper-class ~6/7/I wasn't even paying attention since it never mattered anyway years ago. Ugh, my youngest aunt had a drug problem which left my younget cousin in the custody of the worst aunt, yet they gave my mother more grief for becoming a lowly teacher with a career that saw her making more than most 2 parent homes. They also never deigned to not try to ply me with gifts, and then straight up cash, or my inheritance when I got hip to the way they treated my mother. I told them exactly what they could do with it around 12, and it was at that point they knew, they'd fucked up. When there are so many pigheaded people who refuse to listen, she always listened to me. Even when I brought home my girlfriend at 19, and despite her religious views. When the same-sex marriage vote came around to my state before the countrywide "Yes", and she felt that voting for it was in conflict with her beliefs, we had a couple (calm) discussions about it, and ended up voThat may not be encouraging to you, but it's more than enough to keep me looking forward to tomorrow.