I thought I could keep all my relationships superficial, that’s how I would protect myself. I would try to experience joy with others, and process pain in private.
The compartmentalizing can often fail. While i might not seek to divulge, it’s hard to be evasive, and the urge to unload, to reveal, to share- well sometimes I give in.
But to give in is to trust, and to trust is to feel betrayed.
It’s a broken record, people uttering cliche toxic positive statements– everything will be fine, don’t worry, you’ll be better by tomorrow, at least you have the sunshine, when I went through the very same thing, after I cut sugar and caffeine out of my diet and downloaded the latest meditation app, and started training for marathons — all my problems were resolved. You can do it, you’re stronger than you you think, you just need to try harder. You are so resilient, you can make the best out of any bad situation. Just give it time, everything always falls into place. It all happens for a reason– next time, you’ll take the lessons you have learned from this hardship and be strong enough to avoid or handle anything bad that comes your way!
I hung the noose and told my friends — six months later, few have checked in on me, checked to see if I was still alive. Why would they need to? It all gets better after a few days, I mean you clearly managed, and realized “there’s so much to live for,” because someone would have told me if you were actually dead! You have never actually committed suicide, so you probably never will! You’re always fine!
I told you how I was sick, sick all of last year, and you tell me now when I feel unwell, you reply it will all be fine — just give it a day! I explain how incapacitated I was when I was sick, how long it persisted, and you nod and pretend to register but seem surprised every time it comes up, as if you never knew even though I told you how bad it during the whole time. But you tell me, but you’re better now, right? It’s all fine! You’re fine! It’s all over! You gloss over my comment that i’m not fully healed and that I relapse from time to time and that no one knows what the root cause is and I do not have any treatment. But you’re better! Have you been to the beach!? It’s rainy and cold here. You’re so lucky to have the sunshine!
I told you how many times I’ve been on the brink of suicide, you asked me to tell me how I needed support, and i said consistent contact, on mundane matters. Whoops! You forgot. You’ve just been so busy with work and the kids. It’s just so hard with work and the kids. And I’m so bad at keeping up with everyone! It’s just too hard!
I stand up tall, I speak my truth, I ask that you validate me instead of asking me to look on the bright side. You say it’s a reflex that’s too hard to undo. You say that instead of acknowledging my pain, erasing it is just the most instinctive reaction. It’s impossible to stop! It’s just the just way all of us our wired to react! Let’s think happy thoughts!
I’m honest, I reach out for help, I say I’m in need, and I follow every instruction on every website about how to help myself by leaning on others. And you ignore the vulnerabilities I share, you change the subject in conversation, you never share your own. And when I need you the most you — you resent me for burdening your life and asking for too great of sacrifices — to just keep in contact. You never tell me how you value me. You don’t say that you’d be scared to lose me.
You definitely don’t behave like characters on t.v. — where I’m stuck in bed refusing to eat or get up and you come over to get me up to shower and feed me and plan ways for us to share fun, meaningful experiences that engage me and see the value of life.
You should ask your family for help! But my family makes my health worse. But you should ask your family! Or maybe you should have gotten married if you wanted some to care for you. If you start dating i’m sure you’ll find someone who will love and care for you no matter what! Have you tried online dating apps?
I confide in my hurt by others, and you tell me -don’t take it personally, people are just projecting their own stuff on to you. They can only see things from their own personal life experiences and perspective. It’s not about you, it’s about them! They need to believe they would never be in your shoes, where the pain and suffering was relentless. They need to believe there’s a solution to every problem, that they can exert willpower to resolve anything, that they’ll always be in control and a tragedy like yours would neither happen to them nor impact them if it did. It’s not about you! They just don’t want to believe bad things can happen to them! Or if bad things happen, they need to believe they wouldn’t be so emotional and sensitive like you! — But so many people love you!
I tell you over and over that I know my depression and I know how it manifests physically and I know how to deal with it because I’ve had it all my life. I say this persistent unrelenting fatigue I get is different, – it’s crippling. It’s incapacitating. I can’t stand, I can’t sit up, I can’t walk to the bathroom or get myself a glass of water. You say, but your emotions cause physical problems. It’s just stress! Maybe it’s the weather! You should just need to rest and you’ll be fine! A good night’s sleep will do the trick? Did you hydrate? Drink lots of fluids!
I ask a potential therapist — the very first question I ask, can you handle someone with a history of suicidal ideations, self harm and suicide attempts? You don’t answer. You ask me to tell me my history. But you don’t let me speak. You interrupt me over and over to clarify dates and when you repeat back what you heard, you are wrong and i have to correct you every time. You don’t let me tell my own story. You jump ahead without letting me connect the dots. You tell me that my experience with the police sounds traumatizing but when I ask if you’d call the cops on me, you tell me you have to do these kinds of things to keep me safe if I’m a potential harm to myself. You speak to me for over an hour, pressing on – on every one of my past traumas, and then say, I’m not the right therapist for you . Only after all this time and jotting down note after note, do you finally answer my first question. I can’t provide the level of care you need. You have far too serious of issues. You are too fucked up, and even if the police harms you and the hospital will kick you out in a matter of days, they are the only ones qualified enough for your level of care.
People don’t see me. People don’t listen. People don’t care. To wash away my truths, to ignore me, to offer an alternate reality based on notions of positivity instead of the facts you chose not to listen to — to suggest the solution is within arm’s reach and has always been achievable is to essentially accuse me of not trying hard enough by assuming only a very simple element is wrong and is easy to fix— to respond in all the ways that you do, you deny my humanity.
You dehumanize me. I am nothing. I am invisible. I am already dead.
I want to compartmentalize, but I don’t feel safe with anyone. I don’t feel safe anywhere.
If i accidentally speak my truth, the cops will come back and steal me from my home. You’ll tell me that detaining me was the only way to ensure my safety while you treat me like a dangerous criminal.
If I commit to a home, I’ll be displaced by a neglectful landlord. You’ll ignore my phone calls for days and then pretend you’re doing everything you can.
If explain my health limitations, you’ll shame me, and tell me I’m no different from any able-bodied person. You’ll say it’s not that hard to ride your bike on off-road trails, c’mon you can do it! No big deal! You’ll be fine!
If i seek medical help, you’ll cut me off if i speak more than 90 seconds, ask me to only say how i am in this very moment, to stop with any explanations of my history or conditions. You’ll say that even though I still get sick every month, I also get better every month, so I’m getting better overall and everything will be fine! Nothing is wrong with you! It won’t happen again!
If i speak of my mental illness, reference feeling triggered by anything, you’ll tell me I have to let go of the past, and to not let past traumatic instances affect me now because they’re done. Live in the now! Be present! Be mindful! Meditate away your pain! You’ll say doctors over diagnose depression and medications are only going to harm me in the long run. You’ll remind me — but everyone has suffered in 2020!
Or — You’ll tell me you are too hard to help. The only way you can be helped is to be detained in an institution who will throw you out as fast as you are thrown in and tell me to find someone else to help me. But who would if I’m too hard to help?
I am unseen, unheard and unsafe. I am undeserving, unworthy and unimportant.
I’m altogether unnecessary in this world.
Inside My Madness 