Okay, I have my DH's permission to post this, because he is committed to trying to reduce the stigma around mental illness. It would be great if just one person who didn't really understand, who thought that people with mental illness just need to 'think positive', read this and came away with an inkling of life with a mental illness.
My DH's life:
My DH starts every day by waking up and feeling disappointed that he hasn't died in the night, because then he wouldn't have to face living with himself any more. Every morning is a struggle, mental and physical (because depression has a physical component) to get out of bed because what's the point? Today is going to be just as bleak, as hopeless, as pointless, as difficult as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Sometimes he wins the battle. Sometimes the depression does.
My DH loathes himself. He thinks he is useless and a burden on me. He thinks I would be better off without him because then I could have a "real life". He has a constant, ceaseless interior voice - which at the same time doesn't feel like part of him - telling him that he amounts to nothing, is a failure, is a waste of space. Every little mistake that he makes simply confirms that he can't do anything right. If he leaves the top off a bottle of milk (entirely possible with his memory and concentration issues) and it goes off, he doesn't say "duh, what a daft thing to do" like a so-called "normal" person. It is validation of that interior voice that he can't even manage to do the simplest task and may as well not be here.
My DH takes three different anti-depressants / mood stabilisers a day, twice a day. So to add to the constant dragging exhaustion, the joint and muscle pains if he tries to do anything remotely physical, he also has to cope with the side effects of a cocktail of medication.
My DH can't read a book, because by chapter two he has forgotten the characters and by chapter five he has forgotten the plot. He can't go to the shops alone as he will forget what he went for and buy something else completely unnecessary, and may well leave his debit card in the shop. He will struggle to carry a bag of shopping back along the street and when he gets back to the house, there is a 50:50 chance he will leave the keys in the front door lock. And all of these little 'failures' then compound how much he hates himself.
My DH can't cope with bureaucracy. He struggles to follow processes, he shies away from making decisions because he can't trust his judgement. I have to deal with every agency, every utility, anything regulatory or legal or official. The form to apply for DLA, and then the form to transfer from Incapacity Benefit to ESA were both 30-page-plus booklets, mostly geared towards physical illness / disability. I had to complete as much of the form as possible and when I was unavailable through work, he had to deal with a CAB advisor.
My DH pays £25 a week out of his DLA to see a private counsellor, because he has exhausted the NHS provision for mental healthcare and has been discharged from the Community Mental Health Team because there was nothing more they could offer him. Essentially, he is too ill for their programmes and groups and 1:1 sessions to make a difference. He has had to come to terms with the fact that there is no cure for his condition. This is as good as it gets.
My DH was so fed up with feeling useless that last year, he tried to volunteer at an animal charity. No pressure, drop in as and when you can. He got lost on the way because he couldn't remember the route. He managed two hours, collapsed and was sent home in a taxi. More failure. More self-loathing. Have you seen a grown man cry in frustration because he can't manage a couple of hours of cleaning out animal kennels?
I could go on, and on, and on. That's "normal" for my DH. That's his "normal life".