Broken
Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2018 11:46 pm
So I've been dealing with depression and anxiety for a really long time. I've been to therapy, I've been put on medications, the whole nine yards. And to be honest... I'm tired. I'm just so, so tired of trying to deal with it, handle everything in my life. I feel liked there's this enormous weight, everyone is pressuring to start college, start a career, and just start the rest of my life. And ever since I stopped therapy my mother's told me if I need help to go to another therapist. She wants to fix me, or she thinks that I'm fixed. What if I don't want help? What if I don't want to be fixed though? What if some things get so broken that they can't be fixed? What if I can't be fixed?
Sometimes I think it'd all be easier to just not be here anymore. I'm just so tired of having to try and figure out what the rest of my life is going to be when I'm worried that I'm not even going to make it to my next birthday.
I can't tell my family though. They don't really want to know. They would rather I fake it, fake being okay, fake being healthy. They want me to go about my life like I don't feel empty and hollow inside.
And I just keep wondering, what if some people just aren't cut out for this world? What if we're just not strong enough? What if by the time anyone realizes that there was something wrong it was too late to ever truly help them? I mean, jesus, I had thoughts about running away or committing suicide when I was eight years old and everyone was too wrapped up in their own fantasy worlds to see it. I didn't realize that there was something wrong with me, seriously wrong, until I was 17. What did I know about things like depression? The only reason I noticed was when a friend admitted to me that they had it, they told me because they saw that the same thing was wrong with me that was wrong with them. Everyone else pretending things were great. My parents pretended that my brother wasn't beating me at home and that the other kids and a couple of the teacher were making my school life hell as well. And every time I tried to say something they ignored it, when I tried to mention it to my mother just a few months ago she conveniently forgot about all the times I came crying to her cause the prodigal son tried to kill me. I am the lesser child. The lesser person. And sometimes I wonder if everyone wouldn't be better off if I were dead.
I tried so hard to work through these emotions but it's so hard when the only person who truly believes me when I talk about the hell I've gone through is a seventeen-year-old who's just as messed up and hopeless as I am.
Why is it that the people who are supposed to notice the pain in others, the ones who are meant to help them, why do they seem to cause more pain? Why do they always turn their backs on the ones who need them the most? Why is it that no matter how hard I try to fix myself I only seem to break even more?
What's worse is on paper my life, my childhood, is pretty alright. And I know that there are those who have it worse than me, a lot worse. And they are fine, functioning member of society, genuinely moving forward and creating a happy existence for themselves. I know all that and I feel so guilty for feeling, for thinking, the way I do. Like I'm not worthy enough to be depressed, like I haven't suffered enough and I'm insulting the people who by all accounts have the right to be depressed. I feel like a fake, worthless and unwanted. I feel like the biggest poser in the world.
Sometimes I think it'd all be easier to just not be here anymore. I'm just so tired of having to try and figure out what the rest of my life is going to be when I'm worried that I'm not even going to make it to my next birthday.
I can't tell my family though. They don't really want to know. They would rather I fake it, fake being okay, fake being healthy. They want me to go about my life like I don't feel empty and hollow inside.
And I just keep wondering, what if some people just aren't cut out for this world? What if we're just not strong enough? What if by the time anyone realizes that there was something wrong it was too late to ever truly help them? I mean, jesus, I had thoughts about running away or committing suicide when I was eight years old and everyone was too wrapped up in their own fantasy worlds to see it. I didn't realize that there was something wrong with me, seriously wrong, until I was 17. What did I know about things like depression? The only reason I noticed was when a friend admitted to me that they had it, they told me because they saw that the same thing was wrong with me that was wrong with them. Everyone else pretending things were great. My parents pretended that my brother wasn't beating me at home and that the other kids and a couple of the teacher were making my school life hell as well. And every time I tried to say something they ignored it, when I tried to mention it to my mother just a few months ago she conveniently forgot about all the times I came crying to her cause the prodigal son tried to kill me. I am the lesser child. The lesser person. And sometimes I wonder if everyone wouldn't be better off if I were dead.
I tried so hard to work through these emotions but it's so hard when the only person who truly believes me when I talk about the hell I've gone through is a seventeen-year-old who's just as messed up and hopeless as I am.
Why is it that the people who are supposed to notice the pain in others, the ones who are meant to help them, why do they seem to cause more pain? Why do they always turn their backs on the ones who need them the most? Why is it that no matter how hard I try to fix myself I only seem to break even more?
What's worse is on paper my life, my childhood, is pretty alright. And I know that there are those who have it worse than me, a lot worse. And they are fine, functioning member of society, genuinely moving forward and creating a happy existence for themselves. I know all that and I feel so guilty for feeling, for thinking, the way I do. Like I'm not worthy enough to be depressed, like I haven't suffered enough and I'm insulting the people who by all accounts have the right to be depressed. I feel like a fake, worthless and unwanted. I feel like the biggest poser in the world.