Mental illness is often underestimated and overlooked as if it has absolutely no impact or effect on the way we live. No one wants to admit another person is broken or emotionally damaged, especially if it’s us. In this case, we’d rather carry on with our lives broken and wounded because most of the time we’re scared of being judged and perceived as pathetic and dysfunctional human beings.
Perception is everything, and when someone sees us in a specific and unusual light, it’s incredibly hard for us to erase the new image they have of us from their minds. They’ll see us as people who are unable to get better, and even if we do at some point, to them it’s only a matter of time before we fall down again. Our improvement is temporary, and it’s not going to last.
Although it’s sad and incredibly frustrating, I have to admit that for the most part, they’re right. At least in my case. I mean look at me. Things in my life tend to fall apart before they can get together. It’s like I’m hanging over by a thread. I can only resist the fall for so long. The outcome is determined way before the struggle. And knowing that, I wonder: Why the hell do I bother to change? Why do I thrive to turn my life around if I know with all certainty that the final call is made by a bigger force? In life, some people get lucky, and others don’t. And we can’t do anything about that. We can’t change fate. All we can do is hang on.
I guess I’m depressed. I’m sure I am. The signs are there. One day the world is filled with hope and opportunities, and the next it feels pointless. I feel like a worthless piece of shit. The pain that’s inside of me is so hard to maintain that even breathing seems like a struggle.