I think this is quite an angry post - but it is an angry post from my heart. I fear today is even more personal than yesterday. I have never been so open. You may find some of the latter paragraphs disturbing. I understand if you choose not to read. Today is for me and that me is not an amazing person.
I'm not quite sure what to say. I think my post yesterday was far too positive and conveyed almost a false hope. I want there to be hope, I need there to be hope. Each day I feel like I am fighting a civil war with myself. There is one tiny part which knows I am more but I am overwhelmed by what I fear is my truth. The truth that I am not worthy to be wasting our precious oxygen. I fear I am doing a disservice to anyone who is suffering more than me. I fear I am making it so very worse for people who are genuinely ill. I fear I am a fraud.
I know that I quietly cried myself to sleep last night.
They were not happy tears. They were the tears of knowing that so many of you share my pain. Pain seems like it should be the wrong word. I know I still catch myself thinking that I don't have a real disease. Such is the cleverness of mental illness. But it is the right word. The pain is sometimes numbness and the numbness is overwhelming and infects every part of your existence.
"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."Thank you Mr Kint. Mental illness is the Devil.
They were tears that I have still so very far to go and I am already exhausted. I want this all to be over. As much as I want to be brave I know that if I had the choice to have never been born, for Bean to have never known me I would take it. To have never existed would make it all better. I know I have not touched many lives and that hurts me so very much. I want to be extraordinary. I wish there were no anna.*
Your response to my last post has been overwhelming.
Many of you have said I am brave. I am not. I am a coward.
I am a coward who sometimes cannot leave the house because my brain continues to tell me I am completely useless. I am completely useless.
Such petty things upset me. I think that no-one will turn up to my little Ring Bash. I fear my new website will be a complete failure. I know I cannot emulate the success of my counterparts. I can't seem to foster the community I want and I know that is my fault because I obviously do not have the right turn of phrase or I am clearly uninspiring. I see people write awful words and they are lauded as heroes. How can I compete with that? I cannot be that person.**
Today, I realised that I failed to acknowledge a huge part of my problem.
I forgot to talk about my anxiety. I guess because I am only just accepting that I am an incredibly anxious person. How it still screams failure to me. How do I not have more control? Why am I not stronger? I have the innate ability to scupper any positive moments in my life.
Depression doesn't scare me anymore. My anxiety does so very much.
You only need to read through my words on trying to learn to drive to understand how physical the disease is. I have another lesson tomorrow and it is taking every fibre of my being not to cancel it. Since being behind the wheel I have cried whenever I have been in a car for an extended period of time. I shouted at Bean and made him feel awful for no reason. I am physically scared of the situation. I write these words in floods of tears. It is such a visceral reaction I wish I could explain.
Anxiety. It is a dreadful affliction. Another disease which is shrugged off by many a doctor as just a personality quirk or just a lack of motivation. I understand it is difficult to empathise with something in which you do not believe but perhaps it is time to give someone the benefit of the doubt. Physical signs or symptoms are so much easier to believe. I have those too. Not classical self harm but that does not make it any less powerful or noteworthy. Inflicting pain upon myself to avoid certain social interactions has been a pattern for many a year. I have carefully overdosed on my medication, not to hurt myself but to see if I could feel something. I have cut myself to find some semblance of control. To see blood dripping from my skin hoping it will rid me of my fog. I strategically planned my suicide to know that I had a way out. I have focused my anxiety to the point where I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I have ruined my body. I am hideous because I hate myself. I hate myself because I am hideous. Why does it matter so much to me what I look like? Why do I assume I can only be happy if I am beautiful?
"What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness"Tolstoy
I have begun to realise I have partly destroyed myself through assuming I knew what people thought. I have gone through childhood thinking my parents were not proud of me, thinking I was the second best, thinking I was useless. These may be still very true to me and their originators but that does not make them right.
I wish I could SUCK IT UP (as so many people have literally told me in the past) but I can't. I need to be fixed. I need to remember this takes time. I have to remind myself how far I have come and not always focus upon the negative.
I'm not entirely sure what to say to you. To the wonderful 40 odd people who took time out of their day to write to me. I just wish I could explain how kind you all are. (Well I do know that the blogger system makes thanking you all annoyingly difficult and impersonal).
Thank you for your kind words yesterday. I will try to take them to heart. I am just very good at pushing away positive thoughts and I can dismiss any positive statement with a carefree ease. Please do not feel you have to offer any more today. I do sometimes think I am asking far too much of you. People who I am sure have far better things to do than listen to a stupid little girl witter on about her non-problems.
I am off the the Brain Man now. I hope he can help me make sense of all of this. I sure as hell can't.
**There are other fears that I will never be a doctor or be the anna I want to be for Bean but that is another post.