Ananda

“Love is when your crazy meets someone else’s crazy and it just fits.”

“Love is when your crazy cancels out their crazy and vice versa.”

Sayings like these make mental illness sound quirky and fun, like something easy to get over if you just find the right person. You meet someone, you fall in love and all your broken pieces are somehow fixed and you’re no longer broken.

The reality of love when you’re mentally ill isn’t nearly so charming. It isn’t about trying to make each other feel “normal,” it’s about reassuring the other that not being normal is just as OK.

Love when you’re mentally ill isn’t all carefully chosen words and unconditional understanding. It’s tear-stained pillows and waking them up in the middle of the night. It’s a bloody bathroom floor and taking away whatever they use to self-harm. It’s them rocking back and forth as the exit sign glows brighter. It’s cuts and bruises and not being able to fight because neither of you have the energy. It’s tiring and it’s arrogant, because for once you have a reason to breathe, but the air is thick with dust. ♦