Well I've kind of been there myself with the mental illness thing. I've experienced things all over the map. So I know the landscape pretty well, having been both here and there.
So you have constant fear, and dread, and anxiety.
Well that's good at least you recognize that. That's a start.
Well I can tell you you're right about one thing: knowing all the answers isn't going to fix the fear and anxiety and dread. Even if you did know all the answers, and even if everything did make perfect sense, and even if you did know what it was all about, that wouldn't stop the overwhelming anxiety and constant fear and dread.
Because I was there. I was depressed and anxious and fearful, and I could always find something to blame it on. My problem was school, or friends, or homework, or studying, or my future, or I had to pass this test, or I just needed a relationship, etc. Sometimes I admitted there really wasn't anything wrong with my life, everything was actually OK, but I just had this feeling of "impending doom". LIke it was just around the corner.
I tried everything to fix my problems. I talked to therapists, I tried harder at school, I tried harder to make friends, I tried harder to find relationships, I studied harder, I tried harder to be happy, I tried harder to relax (I know, sounds insane, doesn't it?).
Then my parents, who for some reason have always been smarter and wiser than me, maybe because they're old and went to college, or maybe because they're half gods, or aliens from another planet (that would explain a lot), they had this crazy idea, why don't I just take some medication and that will fix all my problems?
Well that didn't make any sense at all to me. How can a pill fix all my problems with school? And friends? And relationships? And depression? And anxiety? And fear? And dread? And all these problems with the world?
It didn't make any sense!
But I figured, What the heck. I've already tried everything else. I've already tried every rational thing I could possibly think of, and nothing has worked, so it actually makes some sort of perverted sense to now try something totally irrational.
So I went to the psychiatrist doctor and tried some medication.
And it didn't work.
But I kept trying different medications.
And kept trying, and trying, and trying,...
and one day we tried yet another medication... and soon I knew we had found the right one, as I actually started slowly feeling better!
And I kept slowly feeling better and better, and better, and better. Week after week. Month after month.
After a year I was like, "Holy Sh*t! This is F*cking Amazing!" That constant fear and dread and anxiety and depression, and feeling like the world wasn't real, and I wasn't really here, and I had to work really, really hard to fake pretend that I was normal - it just wasn't there anymore. It didn't go anywhere, there was no void where it used to be, it was just... - so this is what normal feels like!
The world still doesn't make sense to me. I look at the starry night sky and I'm just in awe and I think: "Wow..." I see amazing astronomy photographs and I'm not sure what to make of them.
But now I'm OK with it. I don't need to understand it all. Because my feelings are OK now. It was my feelings being not OK that made me panic about everything, and made me want to figure out everything, and made we worry that there was some sort of horrible impending doom for all of humanity just around the corner, because my feelings were telling me so, and it was ruining my life, making it hard for me to function, making it hard for me to concentrate, making me worry about everything, making me try to fix everything so I would be safe. But I couldn't fix anything, because nothing in the world was broken - except me.
I realized, the problem wasn't with the picture I was seeing - the problem was with the camera.
And that's why, once in a while, when I find someone who might be suffering something similar, I open up and tell my story, in hopes that it might be of help. Blessings FiFi.