A link popped up on FB recently to an post by S.E Smith which said everything I’ve ever wanted to say about my depression but have never been articulate enough to say.
I’m the queen of keeping up a facade, I’ll laugh at your jokes and tell you I’m fine when really my heart is on the verge of being vomited out of my chest. I mask pain and sadness with my sarcastic manner and bitchy resting face. I become known as the girl who is the Chandler of the group, always ready with a cutting remark – HA HAHAHA she’s so funny and straight to the point. No, I’m just good at hiding the fact I actually just want someone to hug me and tell me its okay.
I told my friend the other day that I used to self harm as it made me feel real and it made me feel like I existed for that moment in time. It was never about the actual act for me or how I did it, it was just to feel that stab of pain that would confirm I was real and I am here. Now I don’t self harm with scissors and knives, I self harm with self loathing and negative thoughts.
I try to practice self love, make mental notes of my positive attributes and try not to tear myself to pieces when I fuck up in life. I hate myself for feeling so shit but then can only cope with life at the moment by being this way.
I worry that I’ll never feel normal and risk not finding love again because of how I am. I run the risk of staying in this hamster wheel of depression, spending endless cycles of going round and round and round and never getting off.
I hate myself for making myself feel like this. I hate myself for hating myself.