But once I step into a doctor’s office it all comes back to me. How much I hate having an illness with no cure and how there’s no way out of tests or medication or how I can’t live without insurance.
Sitting in a waiting room I feel different but not in a special or cool way. I begin to think of all the people who never have to go through anything like this and I become jealous of their carefree health. I think of how maintaining my health puts tethers on my life and they hold me down in a chair while I wait for my name to be called.
I say a little prayer that the visit will go well and I can look forward to the moment I have the next day where I forget I have a mental illness.