Tuesday, 29 September 2015
It seems more than ever, I'm infatuated with what people think of me. I've became this little turtle that refuses to come out it's shell - because for some sad reason, everyone else's opinion of who I am means so much more to me than my own. I am so aware, I'm just so ignorant to what I know is right. I feel like I can't win, and that I won't be winning until I'm satisfying someone else's ideal. After two months of blogging about my daily life and mental health, somehow going back to university with all the people around me knowing and people coming into my life and finding out... well it embarrasses me. Considering I'm on this stage where I talk to so many people about my illness and how I cope - it's humiliating but I've somewhere became ashamed of it all.
Shame is one of the worst feelings in the world. I always told myself that I would never feel shame ever again because everything I do is calculated and I honoured myself with the idea of self love and distinct pride. Although it never really feels enough. Maybe I'm feeling this way because I'm off my medication again, but lately I've found myself rejecting this illness more than accepting it. I can't shake off the fact that something should have been done when I was younger, or that I shouldn't have been diagnosed at all and maybe I wouldn't feel so self aware. I know I'm being silly, but it's difficult.
What it all boils down to is stigma, I feel so stigmatised that I feel shame towards the way I've turned out. I find the idea terrifying that those around me won't accept me and that they overlook things. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going from this point. I just, kinda, wish it wasn't me.