You see, I have been talking more about events than my feelings on events (at least, to myself). And it hurts to not know what I am feeling xD It’s like I don’t know what I feel before I put sh*t out there. And now I putting sh*t out there about putting sh*t out there.
I am boring! Waaoo. OK, brain-dump over. I am a little hungry. NO HUNGRY IS NOT A FEELING. I feel better.I felt a little crappy before, but now I feel a lot better. Damn, writing about it makes me feel even better. Seriously. You non-writers (how do you stay non-writering?) outa try it. GOSH! EMOTIONS! OK.
I feel better. No, I said that already.
It hurts. It hurts when psychiatrists update their Facebook status while I am talking. I am not a mental-trend you see. I am a person, who feels ashamed a lot of times to admit it even though she tries to be more open, who is hurting. It’s hard enough I am sitting beside you. Why do you feel the need to like that picture of a tree on your newsfeed? Why?
It hurts again. It hurts when parents talk to each other about my illness. I used to think I shouldn’t have even existed right here. I am worried that I want a child of my own and at the same time, OCD can be biologically inherited. I am afraid that I might get my heart broken for that reason when my future partner finds out I am not all-right in the head.
It hurts when people say mental illness is something funny. It also hurts when people say it is “normal”. I mean, it’s understandable. Back before I was struck with OCD, I used to think mental illness was a cool thing. (Yeah, seriously). It was until I got it and realized the monster for what it was. It’s like a little insect sits in my head and stops me from making my decisions. Mental illnesses manipulate your thoughts to control you (Mental illness is starting to sound your evil childhood teacher).
But anyhow, people without any mental illness doesn’t understand.To make you understand at least a wee little more, I will use an analogy from Lost.
Have you watched Lost? I was a big fan of that show, until they screwed it up with the pathetic last season But anyhow, there was a character I could relate to: John Locke. Well, I can’t relate to having paralyzed legs after being thrown off a building by your own father, but it’s about his shame. His shame of not being “able-bodied”. Although after he finds himself in the mysterious, magical island, his leg regained it’s ability and he enjoyed the freedom of walking again.
He mentions being humiliated of being seen as the old-guy-in-the-wheelchair. Others may think it’s fine to have problems, that people do have problems, but Locke… Locke was the one experiencing his problems. Locke was experiencing them first-hand, through and through . Now, I don’t know the problems of being in a wheelchair, thank Goodness. But I can certainly sense the feeling of not being a part of the “normal” spectrum of people.
Locke disliked it when people would help him out because it made him aware of how helpless he was to himself. There he was, sitting there thinking how to pull the luggage up to his cabin, and then a healthy young man,Jack, another character from Lost, takes it up for him with a kind smile (before the plane crashed on an island, my Goodness). And Locke didn’t even smile back, he just looked at him. It was such a scene. He was sitting there being powerless while Jack, with the power Locke lacked, did what Locke thought he was supposed to do, can you feel this sad lack? 😦 I know, what Jack did by helping him was nice, but I am talking about Locke’s personal feelings here. You tend to attach labels on yourself after you deal with a problem long enough, and in Locke’s case? *sigh*
I hope it helped a little to understand the dynamics? I mean, not being “normal”? 😦 And only those with problems are called “special”, like seriously? A “nicer” substitute for mental is “special”? Thanks, I feel really special. Well, where was I?
Oh yeah. Parents. Psychiatrists. Psyche Students. They all make me sad. Psych students, because, I don’t know. It feels like they are learning something with no cure. Isn’t mental illness something you “cope” with? 😦 They are psyche-coping-stragetists. And mental doctors, they are crazy, the ones I met. My heart feels heavy as I think about them. I feel sad when I am around them. I am doomed and they want money and facebook likes.
And Parents. Damn. They think I need to get myself “fixed”. It’s a slap on the face every time parents say something like, “OK, the next two councellling sessions might be enough to solve her problems”. Really? You even made a calculation of how many more sessions I need before I get fixed?
Concluding….don’t judge people without being in their shoes. People with problems feel a whole lot about their problems than those without it do.
Here I go switching from emotions again. From silly from the start of the post- to sad. My throat feels heavy from my emotions. I think this will be the last words for this post. OK, until next time :I