Dear Dr Rosales
I want to tell you how I feel. I wish I could, but I don't even know it myself. I don't know who I am most of the time. It's like being kidnapped by Aunt Bessie - it's friendly and welcoming, but terrifying in itself. Due to how long I've suffered from 'Depression' I've forgotten who I am. 'Depression' can make you irritable, untrusting and self-perserved. I developed 'Depression' when I was 15. How much of who I am now is my personality, and how much is 'Depression'?
Note the quotation marks. Some people are stubborn gits. Some are self-affected - introverted. Some people are cautious. But is that them? Is it personality, or Mental Illness? Some people hate themselves because the world hates them - maybe they're not depressed, maybe they're just a twat that noone likes. Maybe people are staring at you in the street. Maybe the Goverment are keeping tabs on you. You may never know. Maybe, you don't want to know?
I don't know why I'm doing this. I don't know why I'm such a state, and honestly, I don't think you do either. I think you're as bummed out as me, but you have to hide because you're meant to tell how to make myself better. I thought I got it after 6 months of CBT, but obviously not. I thought the whole 'Depression' was from the Self-Harm - Being sad because you're crying, or in this case, Cutting - But maybe it's because the years of people hate me.
I'm sorry to throw this down the gutter, but I hate me because people hate me.
Theraphy can teach you to love yourself, but it's harder if you're a tosspot that noone else likes. Because then you make the jump from being depressed and introverted to self-loving and arrogant. Oh no! You cry. You can love yourself without being arrogant. Lies. It's like me learning to be Assertive, then getting fired for being aggressive. No. Bullshit.
I... Just don't know. I think this is me looking for some other route. I don't like Depression, but I can't be optistic. Life will be in South london, in a shithole with wankers. I can't get decent jobs because of my attitude, I can't train due to my short attention span. I can't make friends because I'm a dickhead, and I can't be left alone because I start living three simutaneous lives, or heaven forbid, I'll jump out a window or something dramatic like that. Get to that one later.
I don't fit 'Depression'. I don't fit 'Jennifer'. I don't fit 'Woman'. But I will say I fit 'Mentally Ill'. I think 'Psychotic' or even 'Psycho' fits me amazing, like a LBD that makes your butt look good. Yours, not mine. Boobs don't suit me, and I hate the two lumps of fat sticking out my chest. I hate the two jello plate attached to my lower back. I hate how bloody wide my pelvis is. I recently found out I punch myself in the Pelvis as I try to sleep - Does that count as Self-Harm? I don't really know, but I know question marks look good in Notepad. I think it's more as fidgeting, as I try to wrestle sleep, without feeling naeustious. When I think of 'Mentally ill', I think of an old spinster lady with shitloads of cats, and that'll be me, if I live to be old. Crazy. I can deal with that. I can't deal with 'Depressed'. I think I could if I bought that I was. Stuff it back on the shelf, cause I'm not buying it.
I think that's why I can't shrug off Bipolar Personality Disorder. I think I think - nay, Hope! - I have it because it ties everything neatly. Being fidgety. Singing. Dancing. Laughing - god I have a crude laugh! Being friendly. Being irritable. Being impatient - I couldn't wait for the van to pass, so I tried to run across before it reached me. As the Police asked me - as I lay in the bloody road - why I did it, all I could say was I don't know. I still don't know. Being incoherent. I hope my constant broken stream of thought is some kind of personality disorder and not some kind of brain fault or even worse - just some problem with my personality. Mental illness can be 'cured' or controlled. Your personality is just how you are. You can't change yourself. You can try, but you can't do it. Hitler can't become Miss America. I fear my personality is of someone impatient, incoherent, inconsistant and irritating. I much rather pin it on something else. Something out of my control, cause I would hate this whole mess to be my fault.
And then there's the stuff that doesn't fit into 'Depression'. Goddamn blue flashes of light! All the bloody time! Well, not All the time, otherwise they won't be flashes. They happen quite consistant (It's a shame my hallucinations are more consistant than me..) on average once per night.
It sets me off on a panic because then something bad will happen. It terrifies me. Flashes are not normal. Never. Brain Damage? BPD? Psychotic Depression? Detached Retinas? Those in themselves are not good, without even considering Schizophrena. God, no wonder I feel the end is nigh. Then the pain-saking task of falling sleep. I normally sleep too much or not enough. Or rarely, not at all.
The paranoia is not something I'm not a stranger to. People would stare at me, laugh at me, point at me, and in one case cluster round me, pointing, laughing, evermore when I cried harder. People still do. Someone called for my attention - I was the only person on the street - said their mate fancied me, snicker and said "Look at her face!". There's no surprise I'm paranoid! My blinds in my room have never been opened, unless mother does it - I would hate it if someone got a picture of me naked
or something. I can't even be naked in my room. I do often feel like I'm the only person that exists - everything else is something (Or someone) that my mind has made up as a metaphor. There is no Earth, no Moon(s), no Sun. Only my mind and all this chaos it made.
I don't know.
Not sure what to say-ly,
tl;dr What the hell is wrong with me.