Spiraling Down Confessions

The other day, I spoke very freely about my therapist and some of the medications I’m on, and I was speaking to a couple friends that I consider myself close with.  Then they casually mentioned their therapist, and it caught me by surprise because all this time, I had never heard them mention it before.  But then again, neither had I.  And the thought occurred to me that it was the mental health stigma that keeps us all wary, even if subconsciously.  I know I always fear being judged even by friends when I do decide to mention it, because I don’t want anyone to think I’m insane or I have some issues they don’t want to be a part of. In college, I had some really deep talks with people I’m not even friends with anymore- you’d be surprised how many people confess to you in private that they are struggling and attend therapy, or feel they need it.

But why do we fear judgment so deeply?  Therapists are wonderful listeners, and they always help me talk out my problems and find the light at the end of the tunnel, after figuring out first what kind of tunnel it is.  Literally anyone could use a therapist, even if they’re doing relatively okay.  That freedom of having someone who is solely there as an objective source to help sort out the mess your mind is in itself priceless.  Especially some dudes, who are worried they don’t seem “macho” if they admit they have emotions and personal issues.  Which one is harder, acting like you don’t have a problem, or talking about it?  Then maybe consider growing a pair, or rather, shrinking your pair so you can become a woman, because women are probably much stronger in that regard.  How do you expect to improve if you can’t even admit the problem exists?

What I wish to work on, is freeing myself of the fear of judgment by others.  How nice would it be to honestly not care?  For me, I go through this constant cycle where I’m sort of okay, to just discontent and dissatisfied, to full out emo, to pretending I do not actually exist and tuning out to become as much of a vegetable as possible.  Struggling with depression ain’t easy.  Just yesterday, I had said one of my goals was to try to be less jealous of others, and have less pity parties.  But literally today, was one of those days where you wake up in a half charged mode in fighting spirit, and every accomplishment or fun experience someone else near you is having feels like a straight up diss to your face, as it was a reminder and reflection of how unswimmingly your own life is going.

I go through these modes where one incident triggers my depression, and then the following incidents, which could literally be anything, build on that, and I start to slip and spiral downwards into a deep, dark hole.   What is the point of doing anything?  People don’t care.  People are terrible.  People suck.  Life feels empty and meaningless.  We all die at the end anyway.  I’m unhappy- how do I make myself unhappy?  What is the solution here?  A lot of it ends up just being strengthening your mindset and ability to overcome.  But every so often, when these triggers happen, I start to think “fuck, not again.”  I’m so tired of being so tired, and sick of being sick, and repeating, rewinding my mood.

Why is it so hard to be happy?  How do I learn to own myself by sharing and being open about my life?  I’m worried nobody wants to be burdened, nobody wants to listen.  I wish I could just think, “Please, I honor you with my presence and my words” but what I’m thinking is “Please don’t judge me.  Please stay.”

 

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