Demons

There are mornings, days, evenings, nights that I'm fairly convinced that there are demons inside my head, beating against the inner walls of my skull, demanding to get out.    I feel that this may be one of the better descriptions I can give of the 'mental illness' that I have.   I hate using the term 'mental illness' or any other form of the phrase.   When I hear the term it makes me cringe inwardly because it makes it sound as if I'm deranged, completely unbalanced, skitzo, unable to handle life, belong in a mental institute, etc.    If you tell someone that you have a 'mental illness', in most cases you can generally see something change in their demeanor.  That change can at times be a look of pity, a look of concern, maybe even a hint of fear.  It's not always there, but it is enough to be frustrating and bothersome.   There are days even my own husband has one of those 'looks' when I'm having a difficult day.    It's not the general publics fault and it's not the fault of my husband or other loved ones either; I believe it's a natural reaction.
Today the inner demons are battering the inside of my skull with their tiny fists made of diamonds and steel.  This morning it's been harder to fend off the desire to let them spew from mouth and my pores as anger and tension.   I'm at work and it's a bad place to be when I feel like this, but it isn't the first time.
I need to keep breathing, keeping going, and keep hoping and even praying that this day and my ability to fight takes a turn for the better.