There Is Nothing Wrong With Having Mental Health Issues

This past weekend brought up the conversation of mental health issues in a number of ways for me; from hearing about Toronto Blue Jays pitcher Roberto Osuna speaking publicly about struggling with anxiety, and not feeling himself, to conversations I’ve had with family and friends. I feel like it needs to be said again, and again, that there is nothing wrong with having mental health issues. I’m going to be repeating this often throughout this post, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HAVING MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES.

I think Roberto Osuna’s decision for opening up about what he is struggling with, which is no doubt much more common in baseball, and sports in general, than is reported, was exceptionally brave. It isn’t easy to open up about something so personal and something that can be subject to judgement, criticism, and misinterpretation.

Mental health is absolutely vital to our well-being. Without it, we are open to literally falling apart. Mental health is just as important to our being able to function and cope as physical health is. In fact, there are a number of situations where mental health may be even more important than physical health.

The dozens of disorders and diagnosis that encompass mental health are never something to be taken lightly, no matter how, where, when, or why, a person finds themselves struggling with them. Whether it’s a disorder that has been a part of your life since childhood, or whether it’s something that pops into your life in later years, it is always, repeat always, something to be taken seriously. And at no time is it ever a reflection on what kind of person you are, nor does it ever mean that something is wrong with you.

Admittedly, you may need treatment, you may even need medication, but that does not mean you are broken, or flawed, or weak, or a bad person. It doesn’t mean you should be treated differently nor does it mean you should be shunned, judged, ostracized, or criticized. It means that you need help and support, encouragement and compassion, and understanding and patience for a difficult situation or period in your life. That’s really all it means, that you need help. And there is nothing, NOTHING, wrong with that.

I can understand that there are people who have not struggled with mental health issues and may not be able to fully grasp what it means but that is no excuse to treat someone with mental health issues any differently than had they been struggling with something physical that can be seen or quantified. People struggling with mental health issues are still people.

You don’t have to have mental health issues to be compassionate.

I think it’s great that the conversation of mental health is fast becoming more mainstream, and less a “closeted” discussion, saved only for professionals. With places like CAMH (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health), here in Canada, CMHA (Canadian Mental Health Association), also here in Canada, the annual Bell Let’s Talk campaign, and several sports and television personalities opening up about their own mental health struggles has made a HUGE impact in people starting to realize and understand that mental health is something that can affect anyone, in any capacity, or social standing, and that it is NOT something to be ashamed of.

I firmly believe that places like CAMH and CMHA are leading the fight in bringing awareness to mental health, bringing the discussion to the masses, and especially with bringing help to those in need. Addressing mental health openly has come a long way in starting to lose the stigma that has been attached to it for so long. But there is still more work to do. And it starts with us, talking to someone when we need help, and not feeling ashamed about what we are going through.

I’m not saying that you need to speak about what you might be struggling with to everyone you know and everyone you meet. It may mean only sharing it with one person, it may mean sharing it with a group of strangers at a support group, it may mean sharing it only with a professional. It isn’t about who you choose to share it with, it’s about owning that you are struggling right now with mental health issues, and that is nothing to hide or be ashamed of. I’m going to repeat that, “struggling with mental health issues is NOTHING to be ashamed of.

Life is hard. Very hard. This is not new information for anyone. Sometimes trying to handle all that life throws at us, and coping with difficult situations, emotions, and difficult people can be more than just a challenge at times. It can be something that permeates your whole being, and for some, it may also mean using more destructive than constructive methods to cope. It can be something that filters down into your relationships, your work, your interests, your family and friends, and even your ability to function at a basic level. Mental illness can grip you like a vise and twist itself around you so that you feel like you can’t breathe. It doesn’t care if you have the time, or the space, or whether you’re ready or not, it can come on without warning and take you over, or take you down. Regardless of who you are, where you’re from, what you do, where you work etc, you could be someone who finds themselves struggling with mental health issues just as easily as anyone else.

Mental health isn’t selective in who it affects. No exemptions or discrimination here. Mental health is an equal opportunity assailant.

I don’t want to compare mental health to physical health because I don’t think they really can be compared. The each have their own struggles, symptoms, treatments, and perspectives. But I will say that with as many differences that lie between physical/medical issues and mental health issues, there are also a number of similarities between them too. There a lot of physical illnesses or disorders that can often strike at will to whomever, whenever, without warning or cause, and mental health issues can be just as arbitrary and random in who becomes affected too. There are a number of physical/medical issues that cannot be seen just by looking at someone, and that cannot be measured with a blood test or x-ray, just like not being able to tell just by looking that someone is struggling with mental health issues.

Someone struggling with a physical/medical issue is as important to address as someone struggling with a mental health issue. One issue is not necessarily any more urgent to address than the other. Of course I understand that there are some serious medical issues that can be life-threatening and are important to treat as soon as possible, and that there are some mental health issues that are not as urgent in the moment to treat, but they are still important enough to treat, regardless.

Someone struggling with mental health issues may be able to wait a few more days for help than someone requiring urgent medical assistance, but it doesn’t mean that the person struggling with mental health issues should be dismissed or indefinitely delayed in getting treatment.

All issues that can befall us, whether physical, emotional, or mental, each have their own urgencies or not, in how and when they are addressed, but the important thing to remember is that they ALL deserve addressing.

Repeat: THEY ALL DESERVE TO BE ADDRESSED.

I would like to close this by saying to all those struggling with mental health issues, please seek help if you need it, don’t wait. And please don’t be ashamed or feel less than because you need help. Talk to someone. Share with those you trust in your own time. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, nor do you owe anyone an explanation. You are struggling and you need help. Please remember that. You are struggling and you need help.

For those who have a loved one struggling with mental health issues I would encourage and hope that you give as much time and space to your loved one as you can for them to deal with things as they need. Be compassionate and patient. You don’t need to understand someone to be kind to them. You don’t need to have experienced it to have patience for it.

Your loved one may be struggling to live at some point, and this is NOT a weakness, nor is this something to be taken lightly. Anyone feeling like life isn’t worth living anymore should ALWAYS be taken seriously and at their word. They need help. Please do what you can to help them get help.

Most importantly, for all, please remember that there is nothing wrong with having mental health issues.

 

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Afraid

 

…going through some of my self-help books has led me to  feel jumbled in my thoughts and emotions. A combination of the last few months, the last few days, and the last few hours, I feel sick to my stomach. I feel like I need a rest. I need a break. A break from work, life, my thoughts, my emotions, my worries, my fears, from everything.

I feel like crying. I feel torn. I want to run. I want to scream. It feels like life is passing me by. I feel over cluttered with emotional and mental baggage and objects. I feel like I could explode. I worry that my stress will make me sick and I were to get sick what would that teach me? If everything happens for a reason, then what will be my moment and will I see it? so many bad things happen to everyone, why wouldn’t I be one of them? how can I let go when it is only a matter of time before I am cut down by something bad? Pain is inevitable right?

If I die having let my dreams pass me by will it really matter?

If I die having been known what will it matter. I will still be dead.

Life feels so pointless. If I go my whole life and do nothing more will it really matter?

If I do what I believe is my dream and it turns out that I am wrong?

If I fail then I am right back where I started.

If I end up full circle will the fact that I tried really matter?

Honestly?

There’s no fulfillment in trying and failing.

There’s no peace in starting from the beginning again with nothing to show for it.

I believed that if you found your path, your destiny that the universe conspired to help you.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

If it is true then I guess I don’t really want what I thought I did.

If what I thought was my dream, my calling, and I am wrong, then what is my destiny?

I’m crying and I’m not sure why.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid of trying.

I’m afraid of failing.

I’m afraid of being wrong.

I’m afraid of not trying.

I’m afraid of moving forward.

I’m afraid of standing still.

I’m afraid of who I am.

I’m afraid of not knowing.

I’m afraid of being lost.

I’m afraid of being found.

I’m afraid of being alone.

I’m afraid of being close to someone.

I’m afraid of the unknown.

I’m afraid of not being seen.

I’m afraid to raise my voice.

I’m afraid of being disappointed.

I’m afraid I will disappoint.

I’m afraid I will miss something.

I’m afraid I will do it wrong.

I’m afraid I will be left out.

I’m afraid that I will be forgotten.

I’m afraid that I will be too late.

I’m afraid to keep it.

I’m afraid to let it go.

I’m afraid that all I know to be wrong about me will actually be true.

I’m afraid that I will deserve what I get.

I’m afraid that everything I get will be bad.

I’m afraid that I will be a statistic.

I’m afraid that I will be one of the people it happens to.

I’m afraid that “it” will be only pain and fear.

I’m afraid that any happiness will not last.

I’m afraid that any achievement will be false.

I’m afraid that any good fortune will be lost.

I’m afraid that I will always have to fight.

I’m afraid that I will lose the fight.

I’m afraid that there will never be enough.

I’m afraid that I will never be enough.

I’m afraid that I will never be somebody.

I’m afraid that I will never matter.

I’m afraid that I will be invisible.

I’m afraid that no one will listen.

I’m afraid that no one will care.

I’m afraid that I will never realize my dreams.

I’m afraid that what I know is wrong.

I’m afraid that I will always be torn.

I’m afraid that I will always be broken.

I’m afraid that I will always take more.

I’m afraid that I will always be misunderstood.

I’m afraid that no one will want to be my friend.

I’m afraid that I will never be beautiful.

I’m afraid that I will never be adored.

I’m afraid that I will always be hated.

I’m afraid that this is it.

I’m afraid to admit that this isn’t enough.

I’m afraid to admit that I want more.

I’m afraid to admit that I feel ashamed for wanting more.

I’m afraid to admit that I want better.

I’m afraid that I will hurt everyone I love.

I’m afraid that my flaws outweigh my strengths.

I’m afraid I have no strength.

I’m afraid that I will never be the best.

I’m afraid that I will be alone.

I’m afraid that I will deserve it.

I am so very afraid.

I am so very tired.

 

 

*TW* Destructive Coping Methods

…If I am a binger then anything that gives me fulfillment, a sense of peace or comfort, I will have to have. I buy and eat food to comfort me for any and every reason you can think of. There are some days when I plan to buy things in preparation for a binge. I may not actually even be feeling to binge but just knowing that the food is there if I need it makes me feel better.

You know I actually have anxiety about statutory holidays? Because most stat holidays the grocery stores are closed. And if I need to binge and I have nothing then I will feel panic. I worry that I will feel lost or that I won’t be able to handle it. So what I will do is the day before the holiday I’ll sometimes go to the store so I can stock up on binge foods. I try to talk myself out of the anxiety by telling myself there are other places I can go if I really need to and that if I can just make it to the next day when the store will be open then I can have any food I want. I can get the “extra treat” foods that are only for once and awhile, like cake. I actually justify those foods that I have earned the treat. That it will make up for not having what I needed when I needed it. and it actually helps the anxiety. I can tell you though, that not ONE time did I ever really fall apart. I stock up nonetheless. Day to day I regularly take stock of what I have at home if I do need to binge. I can go days without bingeing but then that one day I need it, it will mean everything to have been there. I feel better knowing I have those binge foods nearby for when I need them. it’s frustrating as hell to live on the edge like this.

…I don’t know what a singular need for a treat means. To me all treat foods, almost any sweet, are part of my binge foods. They all take part in it. it’s either the tail-end of it, the middle of it, the trigger, or the precursor. There is no such thing as just wanting a chocolate bar and eating it. not all in the same moment. There are always reasons, excuses, catalysts, and triggers, always.

I never know where my mood will take me…What I want today, I may not want tomorrow. My moods and my feelings are constantly changing…I feel like a slave to my moods and emotions…And all that I don’t feel like or want to do gets lost.

…So much of how I behave and who I believe in is because of fear. What if I need it and it’s not there? What if I need them and they are not there? What if I am forced to do it alone? To decide alone? To think alone? To feel alone? And what if I make a mistake or fall apart?…Guess what is there? Every time, all the time, any reason, every reason, no reason, no questions asked, no judgement, no hesitation, no baggage of their own, food.

I know that food has never offered advice or sympathy but it dies distract me.

Food has never given me support that tells me I’ve made the right decision or that things will work out, that everything will be okay but it has blocked me from remembering that I was looking for support.
Food has never empathized with me but it has made me feel so full that I don’t care.
Food has never sympathized with me but it has never made me feel alone or stupid.
Food has never encouraged me but it has successfully suppressed the intentions and wants I was aiming for in the first place.

Even though it has never helped figure out what to do, or listened, or told me everything would be okay, but it has always, without fail, always been there.

Food has single-handedly done more for me than any one person in my life… Everyone has their own problems, everyone has stress and people have their own lives to lead. How fair is it of me to expect people to understand my own problems and how important they are to me? How fair is it of me to ask of themselves when they may have nothing to give? How fair is it of me to expect them to drop their own lives, if only for a moment, to help me deal with mine?

As I write I think and my mind is whirring away. Do I behave this way because of this reason? Do I believe this because of this conditioning? Does on thing exacerbate the other? Is this worse because of this? How do I know what to fix?

You know of all the books I own, a good amount of them are self-help books. Thankfully the self-help don’t outnumber the regular non-fiction and fiction but when I look at them all and think of how much money I have spent and how little time I spent on them it saddens and baffles me.

A handful of them have truly helped me, even if only to help me move past a moment or belief, and those I have really come to treasure.

I bought them all with good intentions and high hopes and less than half of them made any impact at all. I try to rationalize that there could be a nugget in any or all of them that could help; two-, three-, or four-hundred page books for a single nugget. And of course there may be no nugget at all. Most of them failed to deliver it…. Thankfully I have learned a bit in how to not shop for a book and what not to buy. So I have at least succeeding in avoiding the pitfall now, most of the time anyway… Sometimes to figure out what you do need and want you have to first figure out what you don’t need or want.

I worry that I spend so much time in preparation that my life will be over and I will have missed the chance to enjoy it.

I spend all this time preparing, expecting, and researching, that when the moment to enjoy comes along I either miss it or watch it go by worried that it will trigger a new want or feeling that I won’t be prepared or researched for.

I buy the self-help books with the intent of reading them, using them, working with them, and learning from them but I know what emotions and wants that can be triggered by them too. So I wait until I have the time and space to accommodate the new emotion or want.

I may need that time and space to process the emotion.

And if it sparks a new emotion that I don’t know how to deal with then I’ll need more help, another book, and I’ll need time to go get it.

If it triggers a new need or awakens a dormant one then I’ll need to be prepared to have that need met too.

And what if I don’t have the time and space? What if I can’t deal with the emotion? Or what if the need can’t be met?

So I do nothing.

The Pain of Losing Everything 

I am terrified. I know that life has no guarantees and I hate it. I’m going to say the thing that most people won’t. I don’t care that life just is what it is. I don’t care that life just doesn’t work that way. I don’t care that life isn’t fair. I don’t care that life treats everyone like crap. I want guarantees. I want life to work the way I want it to work. I want life to be fair. I want life to treat me kindly. I want life to care what happens to me and makes sure that I don’t get hurt. I don’t care that that is a utopian goal that will never happen. I still want it. 

I’m not asking for fame, or glory or money, although the last one would be a huge help to making things better but in all honesty it’s really not mandatory. 

I just want to be able to know that someone I talk to in this hour is going to still be in conversation with me until it naturally ends. I want to know that when someone says I’ll be right back that they come right back. I want to know when someone says they’ll call me that they call me. I don’t want to wait weeks, or months, or years, for someone to catch up. I want to know that someone who says they will be there will be there. I want to know when someone says talk to me anytime that they are there when anytime arises. I want to know that when someone cares they actually care. I want to know when someone says they like me and they enjoy spending time with me that they show me they like me by spending time with me. I want to know that I am remembered despite not being right in front of a person. I want to know that everything will be okay, and that it actually is okay. I hate that life throws curveballs at me. I hate that life in one year is nowhere near the same in the next year. I hate that the start of the year, January 1st will have a completely different outlook 364 days later on December 31st. I hate that things change. I hate that people leave. I hate that people lie. I hate that people betray. I hate that people are mean. I hate that people who say they will be there are not there. I hate the pain that comes with the loss of something or someone important. I don’t want to grieve my losses, I want them here, all of them. I hate that dreams never come true. I hate that life always wins. 

I don’t want 24 hours to change my world and turn it upside down. I hate that life doesn’t care who it hurts and what it takes away. I hate that people let me down and disappoint me. I hate that I am not memorable enough to be everyone’s favourite. Or at least favourite to a few people. 

I hate what life takes from me. I hate that people I thought would always be here are not here anymore. 

I just want to know that it will be okay. I just want to know that I will be okay. 

A Thought

Something just occurred to me.

I am in pain and depressed. Being in pain is miserable. Being depressed is heartbreaking. And yet I obviously feel a reason to stay here because I haven’t really made any efforts to change it. I have also come to a place of not caring. I don’t care and I don’t want to care. Caring means getting hurt. Caring means suffering loss. People die. People leave. People betray. And it leads to pain and suffering all over again. All of me is in pain, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and yet I don’t care to change it because if I do I will simply end up right back here. There is no doubt in my mind that I will not be able to maintain a peaceful mind or a healthy body and at some point I will be back here fighting again. I will hurt and ache and struggle to breathe and to move just as I am now. The breathing part is emotional but the moving part is physical.

This actually isn’t new. Why am I making this seem like brand new information. It isn’t even close to new. I knew this before. I knew before that I didn’t care. I knew before that I didn’t want to change. Wait, let me rephrase that. I do want to change. What I don’t want is to make the effort to change. The actual steps to better things. What for? It will all crash and burn in the end. Do I know that for sure? No I don’t. But I do know myself. And I do know my history. And neither one of those things are promising or reliable. I fail. I always fail.

So why bother trying? Why bother continuing? Honestly, I don’t know. I really don’t see the point. The only issue I have with this is that I’m not quite ready to leave. I can’t stay and I can’t leave. So I remain stuck. I want to find a way to somehow be okay but I am at a loss.

The All-Encompassing Pain

Everything hurts. Everything. My body hurts, my head hurts, and my heart hurts. There is little left which does not hurt.

The pain is so great it leaves me breathless. I’m sure there are things I can do to alleviate it. There are some things that will temporarily alleviate the pain, like drugs, both legal and illegal, alcohol, and my personal favourite, food, but they only offer a brief respite that just isn’t long enough for what I need right now. There are some that will long term make things improve like taking better care, eat less, move more, but none of which will happen overnight. I need something to happen that is long term and will take place in this moment, and unfortunately there is no way it will. Unless there really are miracles, and wishes really did come true. But there aren’t, and they don’t.

I am so tired of this pain.

I know that life is hard, and it is filled with pain. I know that I am not the only one to suffer pain. But I can’t speak to what others suffer or endure. I can only speak for myself. I only know what I have suffered and endured and what it has done to me.

I can’t go back. I can’t move forward.

This breaks me in so many ways that I’m not sure I will recover. I’m not even sure if I want to. Coming back only means that I’m in full force to broken again.

So what’s left? What’s left for me to do?

A Boat in the Mud

I always feel depressed when I realize I’m in a depression. Whether I see the signs ahead of time or not it just saddens me. I feel a gigantic sigh inside of me and think ‘well damn.’
Like I’m in this boat that’s stuck in mud. 

I look around at the mud feeling overwhelmed and defeated. That’s an awful lot of mud. There’s no way I could walk, the land is too far, and the mud is so deep that I would get stuck and start to sink long before I would reach shore. I wonder how to get back to land and civilization, but there’s nothing, only mud, for as far as I can see. 

How did I get stuck here without seeing it coming? How do I get myself out of this? But there’s nothing. 

So I sit there for a moment and think about how to get out of this. There must be a way. I run through options, no matter how far-fetched, like breaking apart the boat and laying the wood over the mud like a bridge and working my way back to shore. But how would I break apart a boat? I mean really. So I keep thinking. Maybe I could find a stick and sort of push myself to shore. Of course, that would have to be a pretty damn big stick. And where, pray tell, would I get this stick in the first place? Alright. Keep thinking. As time passes, I can think of nothing that can help me. I sigh heavily and look around at the quiet and isolation this situation gives me and I suddenly feel like maybe I don’t want to find a way back. 

I’m feeling that maybe all I can do is just lay there in the boat and wait for death. Morbid, I know. But it’s a soul sucking reality that can’t really be put in a positive light. 

The thing is, it isn’t even about wanting to die per se because I don’t feel suicidal but I also don’t really care to live either. I don’t care to get out of bed and get dressed and do things. I don’t care to work or play. I don’t care to talk or think. I don’t care to care. I just want to be left alone in my boat. 

Where I would have no cares and no worries. I wouldn’t have to do all the things I hate doing. I wouldn’t have to see all the people I hate seeing. I wouldn’t have to make any excuses or talk myself into being okay with something that is most decidedly not okay. I wouldn’t have to feel anything; no pain, no guilt, no shame. I wouldn’t disappoint anyone, including myself. I wouldn’t feel like I was bothering anyone. I wouldn’t feel like I was a bitch. I wouldn’t feel like everyone hates me. Life would just go on wherever and however and I would just be in my boat stuck in the mud. All by myself. Just a girl and her boat. 

I know that I should want to be doing something about my situation, and I should want to be on land and living but I don’t. At some point I will, but right now it is me and my boat and that’s just fine. 

I’m sure if someone could reach me they would try to talk me out of it. People are very quick to try and make things all better. They’re quick to gloss over the dark stuff and pull you back into the light. Light is good. Dark is bad. 

Well I don’t know if I agree with that. At least right now I don’t. I don’t think the darkness is all bad. I kind of like it. It makes me feel safe. 

When I first started to write this I thought it was a bad idea to just let it be all about darkness and depression. Who wants to read about that? It’s so depressing. And then it occurred to me, well duh, I want to read about it. 

The darkness feels like a cocoon that I can wrap around me while I lay in my boat, and I never have to see light again. I never have to worry again about all of the bad things that the light can bring. I can close my eyes here and just be at peace. I can shut everything and everyone out and be in my world, and only my world. 

Where all of the bad stuff falls back to the shadows. Where I don’t have to conform or obey. I don’t have to follow anyone else’s ideas or rules. I am not ashamed or anxious. I am not subject to criticism, failure, or rejection. I don’t feel bad or hurt. I don’t feel anything. I don’t care what others think. I don’t care about myself or anyone else. I don’t even have to be awake. I can sleep all of my troubles away. 

I can close my eyes and life would just fall away. 

You can tell me that none of this is true or rational, and believe it or not I do already know that, but I don’t care. It feels true right now and I frankly could care less what is rational. 

It’s a long, hard road to get better and there’s no guarantee I’ll ever get there. So it’s tempting to not even try. 

Life sucks. People suck. Work sucks. Family sucks. That is my current philosophy. 

Leave me to my boat in the mud.  

Hard to Care

Today I feel like I really don’t care. I feel like overall nothing matters and life doesn’t seem worth trying. It’s hard to explain the feeling because I don’t feel suicidal but it don’t feel like participating in life either.

I guess I should want to care. That seems like the thing to do but I don’t. I want to curl up under my blankets and sleep. I don’t want to work, I don’t want to eat, I just want to sleep.

I want all the crap of life to leave me alone and give me a break. Even the idea of going away on a trip doesn’t make me want to sightsee or do the art galleries and museums like I normally do, it makes me think of uninterrupted, comfortable sleep. And, yes, frankly if I could I would pay for a nice big comfortable bed like some hotels have and I would cocoon myself in one and sleep to my hearts content.

Apparently Hating Myself Isn’t Enough

I really wish that people weren’t mean. I wish people kept their comments to themselves. I wish people that did comment knew what it feels like to be insulted and judged and that it hurt so that they would know exactly how it feels when they do it to someone else. I wish that they learned that words can hurt. Mostly I wish I wasn’t a reason to be insulted.

I don’t need anyone’s help to feel bad about myself. I do a fine job on my own thank you very much.

I don’t understand why some random person insults someone they don’t know? Does anyone know? Can anyone answer that? Why do some people feel the need to insult a total stranger? Not that insulting someone you know is any better but why would you do it to a stranger? Do any of them ever realize what they say hurts? Do they care that they’ve hurt someone? Do they ever feel remorse for insulting them? Are they hoping to accomplish something? Do they have some ulterior motive that they expect as a result of the insult? Why do they do it? Do they do it to everyone they feel the need to comment on or just specific individuals?

I’ve been insulted by total strangers before and even though several years have passed, I remember each of the incidents as clear as if they had happened yesterday, and they still hurt my feelings today. I try not to let the memories hurt me but they do. I can’t help it. I can’t help that every time I walk by the spot where whatever incident occurred that I think of it. Every time. And I sometimes look around to see if the same person might be there again, and again will have something mean to say to me.

I’ve been told that I should speak up when someone insults me, that I should come back with some snappy retort that will put them in their place. I should say something to shut them up, and in the best circumstance, something that will make them regret what they said. Maybe even cause them to apologize. It wouldn’t really mean anything to me if they did because by then, as far a sim concerned the damage is done, but they could try. The only problem with speaking up, or snapping back, is I’m not like that. I don’t have snappy retorts that can out people in their place. I don’t think of others in a mean way the way the other person does. I don’t look at people and see insults. I don’t want to hurt someone else like that. You can never really take back what you say.

Even if I do say something back to them, what purpose does that serve? Honestly? What does that really do? Does it make the playing field even? Does it make me feel better? Probably not. Doesn’t it make me just as thoughtless as them? Is it really about standing up for myself? It might be said that by my giving a retort to put them in their place would mean that I didn’t let them get away with it, but I’m not sure if that’s true. What does my coming back at them with something really do for me or against them? It doesn’t take away what has been said. It doesn’t even necessarily make me feel better about what has been said. So I spoke back, so what? How has that really helped me feel less hurt?

I know that part of my resistance to speaking up because the truth is some of the comments are true. They aren’t wrong, so to speak, in what they’ve said. I don’t think that necessarily translates to being able to be mean about it, but it is true. How do I reconcile that? If something that’s been said is true, even if it’s been said maliciously, what recourse do I have?

I am by no means perfect. I have seen things, or someone on the street that was dressed a certain way, or acting a certain way, or they looked a certain way, and yeah, I probably had some opinion of them. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But I have never insulted the person. Never. I may not agree with what they wear, or how they look, or whatever a more malicious mind might conjure an insult for, but really what others do is none of my business. To each their own. What I think of them means nothing. It has no bearing on anything. It serves no purpose. Who am I to say anything?

What gets me the most upset is that the times I have been insulted, it makes me want to never leave my home again. It makes me feel like all the bad things I thought of myself before are true. They must be true because apparently others have noticed and are commenting about it. It strikes right to the core of who I am and marks me. I may as well have a permanent scar it has wounded me so sharply.

I hope I am never insulted again so that I don’t have to feel that pain ever again but I know the odds of that are low. Someday, somewhere, someone will insult me again, it’s just the way it goes. I only hope it hurts less than before.

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The Real Me?

There are times when I really hate myself, and not just one or two things about me, but everything. Absolutely everything. Nothing about me is safe from scrutiny and insult.

I hate what I look like. I hate every part of my body inside and out. I hate what I sound like, how I act, what I say, what I think, what I believe, who I am, and who I’m not. I hate all of me.

I feel like I am a deplorable person who doesn’t deserve to have good things or even to be here. I feel like I am a fraud. That who I am day to day is a facade and the real me is lurking beneath weaving manipulation wherever I can so as not to be discovered.

I hate that in those moments I feel as though I have no redeeming qualities. I think that I am merely tolerated by those who care about me. I don’t trust things will ever work out okay. I believe inevitably that everything about me will fail. I believe that no good can come from me. I believe that at times my flawed core is so bad that it can permeate to others. I am so bad that it has the potential to make everything and everyone else bad too.

I hate how I treat everyone, including myself. I hate how I talk to people, also including myself. I hate the words I use when I am being mean to myself and to others. I hate that I continue to do damage to my body, my psyche, and my soul, and yet I do very little to change that. I hate that it’s possible that the real me is a heartless, hopeless, judgemental bitch who only looks to serve herself. And what I hate most about that, is that I’m not always sure I want to change that. I’m not sure I want to change me.

Wow…how awful is that?

Really, is that not that harshest thing ever? I’m not happy with how things are, and yet I’m not totally sure I want to change things either? What is wrong with me? What kind of person thinks like that? What kind of person wants to stay bad? What kind of person wants to stay stuck, and stupid, useless, and hopeless, hurtful and mean? And what kind of person does that really make me? Certainly not a good person. Certainly not a person worthy of love, or care, patience, or understanding. Certainly it would make me a bad person.

So I guess thats me. I apparently want to stay unlovable and manipulative and mean to everyone. I apparently am so broken and flawed that being a good person is out of my reach. I, apparently, am that kind of person. The bad one.

Does that mean there’s no hope for me?