Posted by annalaura on July 2, 2001, at 18:22:58
I'm sick and tired of wearing the "everything- it's -fine" mask every single day.
I'm sick and tired of listening to the other people problems when nobody is listening to me.
I'm tired of lying to friends, always finding an excuse for not going out/hanging out with them.
I'm tired of smiling. I wish i could scream, i wish i could tell everybody i'm sick.
But i can't, because nobody seems to understand what i'm going through. It's always the same old story : if you have a physical problem, then everybody cares, you're understood, if you suffer from a mental illness you're being judged for having a " weak character" or being self-indulgent, childlish etc...I challenge those people to feel just a single day how i feel; i used to be a brave, bold person, i used to tell jokes, make people laugh, make people feel better, i used to have a huge energy, i used to walk miles and miles every day, throughout the city, excited by anything going on. I was content of being alive, i was grateful to life.
When i entered the tunnel i was twenty-one, i'm 32 and still in and spotting no light whatsoever; still, i keep going, not knowing why. Perhaps i'm a coward, not brave enough to kill myself.
I'm not afraid of death, i'm afraid to keep on experiencing this hell after death.
My parents don't know anything, thinking i'm doing fine; my neighbours don't even imagine what lies at the very bottom of my eyes. I learned so well to conceal depression that i forgive myself of being sick sometimes.
I wish i could express my hopelesness and my rage for being sick.
I pretend i'm o.k. all the day through instead, and i'm sick and tired of this.
I'm sick and tired of false hopes knocking inside my head when i fail to feel better (next year will be fine, you'll see, you just need to find the right cure, you just need to be thinking positive, you gotta change negative thoughts/patterns and everything will be fine etc...). The truth is that i have no control of this monster.
I'm sick and tired of deceiving myself with false promises, just because i'm afraid of facing the truth. The truth is that i've been depressed for ten years so far, the truth is that until a few years ago i could still enjoy sex ,friendship, or love. Now i barely feel alive.
The truth is that depression slowly eroded my old self, day by day, year by year: five years ago i was half the person i used to be, now i don't even know who i am; depression robbed me of my ideals, took away my youth, leaving just a shadow of the lively, exuberant, flamboyant person i used to be. Yes, this is how i feel: a shadow, a ghost who obstinately believes in the adult conspiracy you gotta resist, who wear the same mask every single day before going out, and hang it on a wall going in at the end of the day. Sometimes i regret my former pdoc saved me years ago when i was psychotic; yes, i felt terrible, but still in the bath of life somehow.
Yes, i survived that horror but now there is only ashes after the fire. I regret that horror, believe me.
Sometimes i tell myself I'd been better off not knowing what was going to follow: years of dullness and void and the mourning for the lost of my ideals that were the most important thing in my life. I whish i had delivered myself blindfolded to an interrupted day, when i was still
young and my life had some meaning.
poster:annalaura
thread:7004
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20010628/msgs/7004.html