What I have is not mental illness. I have not been diagnosed and I doubt I ever will because I don’t have mental illness. What I am is a pretentious bitch and everyone should hate me.
But let me think. What is it that I do have? What do I know about myself?
- I second-guess myself at every opportunity. It’s hard to discern which of my feelings are “real” or not because I undermine the validity of every pain I give myself by saying it’s not severe enough to be real or I’m nothing but a whiner who can’t get myself together or I brought it on myself so I deserve it or I’m a lucky bitch and have nothing to be afraid of so the fact that I’m afraid is stupid and selfish.
- I have experienced these thought processes for years. I can’t remember when I developed them, but I know I had them in high school at least. However, they never lead to any behaviors that interfered with my daily life… in any significant way. I guess. Until now, that is. But I even undermine myself with that thought, because how impeded is my life, really? Sure, I don’t go anywhere but my room, class, and my car, and sure I don’t have friends anymore because seeing them sends me into a panic spiral, and sure I don’t exercise or study or do anything but sit on the computer and feel like an outsider even on the internet, but I still get my ass out of bed every day to shower and go to class. Occasionally I even pay attention in class. So it can’t be that bad, since there are people who can’t even do those things.
- I grew up in an exceedingly safe environment with the warmest and most loving family anybody could ever imagine and strong friendships with a close group of people whom I really enjoyed being around. If I hadn’t had either one of those things, I wouldn’t be functioning the way I am. But what does it mean that I had those things? Am I allowed to be unwell? What would I be like if I hadn’t had one of those things? Did my separation from my friends drop me into that very situation, where I lost one of the two positive aspects that kept my anxiety at bay and now this is the result? But what IS this result? Is it legitimate or am I just pretending because my friends scared me? etc.
- I think I have panic attacks, but they don’t usually last very long and I’m still generally in control of my facilities when having them. Actually, now I think what I have isn’t severe enough to be classified as a panic attack, especially because I haven’t had a distinct episode in… oh, a few weeks. I guess it was a few weeks. Perhaps that wasn’t even an “episode”. Perhaps I’m just being pretentious again.
- I asked my therapist as directly as I could, and she says she thinks I just
- I’ve recently begun developing problems with food. Again, it’s one of those things that I’ve always had an inkling of in the back of my mind that what I ate had a traceable impact on my mood but it was never given the circumstances to substantiate into any kind of self-defeating behavior. I really hate myself when I eat sometimes, but I also really hate myself when I don’t eat all the time. Eating unhealthy food makes me want to throw up or die, and eating healthy food… doesn’t really give me any reaction. Which in this case is a good thing. However, I like to eat. I like food. I like being happy and eating used to make me happy. Now I dread it. I avoided it as much as I could a couple of weeks ago, but now I’m starting to get into a routine of feeding myself that I’m actually upholding and it makes me wonder how legitimate my food problems are in the first place.
- I don’t self-harm, I don’t make myself throw up and I’ve never attempted suicide. All I actually do is sit in my room and cry and imagine doing these things.
- Seeing people carrying on with their lives and not obsessing over themselves and their shortcomings like I do fills me with indescribable shame.
- This post is nothing but me miring myself in self-pity, so you probably shouldn’t read it or take it seriously at all.
- It’s people like me who undermine the severity of true mental illness.
That being said, this is probably not just me being an attention whore, since that would require me seeking attention, which is the main thing that I avoid like the plague.
It’s ok. I have a meeting with the therapist tomorrow. Maybe I’ll tell her that I use this blog like a journal instead of my actual journal?
