Struggling with mental disorders has consumed my near-twenty years of life thus far, something I am not proud of or happy about… but rather, plain ashamed of.
I have always been ashamed of my body, developing various habits of eating (or rather, not eating) disorders that I’ve struggled with on and off for so long. I have finally become more comfortable with myself, but I am nowhere near confident about myself.
The past 5 years have been filled with depression, more so at the beginning of that time period, and I started to push it to the back of my mind, so all was well for a while. Since coming to college, I have random outbursts of psychotic screaming and yelling fits, taking out my anger, anxiety, sadness, and hurt on those who love me. I can’t believe those that I selfishly use as an outlet are still around to pour more and more love and effort into getting me better.
Getting better sounds so… ill. I don’t want to be “sick.” And if I am “sick,” I would gladly take a cough or a runny nose over the feelings I have inside of me. Why doesn’t anyone else feel the way that I do, why am I the “fucked up” friend that always has to breakdown and cause a scene? Why do I feel so suffocated by sadness and pained to even smile?
In reality, I am sick. I am very sick. It may not be 24/7, everyday. Sick people can still appreciate beauty, funny things, and happiness… but there are definitely enough bad days to equal my good days, all depending on how I feel when I wake up. It is not normal for people to want to take their lives, hurt themselves, be secluded in a room for days, go lengths of time without human interaction, food, or any sort of stimulation, or lash out at people for no apparent reason. The reason is underlying… inside your brain. A chemical imbalance inside of you makes you more susceptible to these terrible emotions that you feel, and it’s not your fault that your own body doesn’t have the strength to pull itself out of this funk on its own.
Last year, I went through a terrible accident where I broke a lot of my body: 4 vertebrae, all of my ribs, my sternum in half, my right hip, and left shoulder. That was such a long recovery for me, and will go on forever… and now with PTSD, I am so afraid to do anything with my life anymore. I can’t enjoy life like I did before I was in my accident. But I keep trucking along, everyday, because that is all I can do. I may be physically strong, and I’m getting stronger because of therapy. I am emotionally weak after the course of many events throughout the past half decade, but I also will need to get stronger with therapy.
You are not alone, and never will be alone. Someone, somewhere loves you, and would hate to see you gone from this world. Other people are feeling the same thing as you are.
Do not joke about “killing yourself,” “cutting yourself,” “dying,” or your other mild feelings (NOT disorders or illnesses) you have… because you are not living with that disorder. You’ve not come close to killing yourself. It is not so-loathingly intertwined into your personality, your lifestyle, every little part of you. Some people wish they could take their lives, hurt themselves, do all of the things that you are joking about. It is not a joke to some people.
The sad part is that, even though people joke about taking their life, or being sick, others either:
- Feel so sorry for them, telling them they were “so beautiful and seemingly happy all of the time.” Why wait until they are gone to tell them that? Why watch them suffer when your words can mend so much?
- Or judging them, saying that they were “weak, and it’s the selfish way out.” Is it really that weak or selfish to feel that death is the only way out of your emotions? Is it so terrible to want “out” of something so suffocating and emotionally hurtful?
Change the way people see mental health. Provide a smile and a listening ear, not glares and judgements.