by PurpuraPapilio » Sat Sep 13, 2014 3:06 am
Dear depression,
I don't want you burrowing your roots into my brain ever again. I hated the feeling of absolute despair, the loneliness and the fact that I was so ill I was hurting the people around me. I never wanted to hurt them, yet I kept everything inside. I've nearly lost a friend in the last two days because of my apathetic attitude cultivated by the depression, and it horrified me that I didn't stop crying until I met up with her and built the bridge back up again yesterday. I'm so lucky she's given me another chance, but her work friend thinks I don't deserve it. And I guess I really don't, but I'm not going to take this second chance for granted.
Trouble is, I'm a weak-minded person, and I'm starting to feel like before. Slowly, just ever so slowly, my happiness is draining out of me week after week. I have wonderful friends, an amazing boyfriend who thinks the world of me and a steady roof over my head, but I still feel sad all the time. I don't want to go out, I don't want to face the public, it's getting difficult to smile when I want to curl up in a ball in a corner.
I wish that I could see what others seem to see in me, and understand why people want to be around me. I want to love myself the way my boyfriend loves me, and I don't want to drag him down with me. I don't want to do that to a guy who is nothing short of amazing, compassionate, loving and understanding. I don't want to ruin him like the way I feel inside. I don't want him to feel burdened by me. I don't want to lose him after loving him all this time and only now being with him...
My family doesn't believe in mental health, I was yelled at and told I was a burdening idiot by my mother who doesn't care to understand (even though she works in a GP surgery as a receptionist) and the rest of my family doesn't want to know me. I'm afraid of going back on anti-depressants incase my mother finds the box and confronts me aggressively like last time.
They don't know I've been diagnosed with PTSD, and all my insecurities, anxieties and depression come from that one cause. My family wouldn't want their name to be sullied in public.
I don't want to go back on medication, but I don't think I can mentally cope without some sort of help. Or a therapist, that would be nice, but I'm poor and my parents will have to fund it. Catch 22 I suppose...
From,
A very scared purple butterfly.