Mar 2015
Why has being messed up become cool?
Why is being sorted and stable such a crime?
Why can’t I feel sad without feeling bad in case someone with depression takes offence and tells me the pain I’m feeling isn’t true pain and that nothing can compare to the misery they feel so how dare I compare myself to them?
But I don’t compare myself to them. I compare myself to me.
I see children. Boys and girls of a mere thirteen comparing the scars on their arms because fashion told them that slicing their own skin would relieve the stress of keeping up with the fashion.
I see people all over the world creating illness to fit in. One week it’s a coma, the next a tumour. People dropping dead all over the place until they forget and suddenly they’re back online. If you ask them about it they spin some story about a miraculous recovery, or lying friend.
People boast about how they were bullied as a child and make up stories of abuse, and why?
Why has this become so commonplace?
Why do we have to compare the negative in our lives? Can’t we just be happy with our positives?
Why can’t I cry when I’m upset just because my parents are still happily married?
Just because I have less to cry about should not mean I shouldn’t be allowed to.
And if I do, it doesn’t mean I need a label.
I get sad, but I am not depressed.
I get nervous but I do not have an anxiety disorder.
I stand in front of the mirror and wish I saw someone slimmer standing before me, but I do not have an eating disorder.
So why am I made to feel like I should? Why do I feel like I should be broken? Why do I count the demons of my past and worry that if someone asks I will not have enough?
Something is wrong.
There are people with real issues. People who need help. People who spend every day sat in the shower, filling the bathtub with their own tears.
So take a step back, and look at what you have. Enjoy being happy, and don’t be scared to show it when you’re not. Reach a hand out to the people who can no longer see the sun through the clouds made by their evaporated tears. Cry with them but stop pretending you have it worse.
Mental illness is not a competition, and nor is happiness. We need to stop putting on a show.
And stop romanticizing pain.
Why is being sorted and stable such a crime?
Why can’t I feel sad without feeling bad in case someone with depression takes offence and tells me the pain I’m feeling isn’t true pain and that nothing can compare to the misery they feel so how dare I compare myself to them?
But I don’t compare myself to them. I compare myself to me.
I see children. Boys and girls of a mere thirteen comparing the scars on their arms because fashion told them that slicing their own skin would relieve the stress of keeping up with the fashion.
I see people all over the world creating illness to fit in. One week it’s a coma, the next a tumour. People dropping dead all over the place until they forget and suddenly they’re back online. If you ask them about it they spin some story about a miraculous recovery, or lying friend.
People boast about how they were bullied as a child and make up stories of abuse, and why?
Why has this become so commonplace?
Why do we have to compare the negative in our lives? Can’t we just be happy with our positives?
Why can’t I cry when I’m upset just because my parents are still happily married?
Just because I have less to cry about should not mean I shouldn’t be allowed to.
And if I do, it doesn’t mean I need a label.
I get sad, but I am not depressed.
I get nervous but I do not have an anxiety disorder.
I stand in front of the mirror and wish I saw someone slimmer standing before me, but I do not have an eating disorder.
So why am I made to feel like I should? Why do I feel like I should be broken? Why do I count the demons of my past and worry that if someone asks I will not have enough?
Something is wrong.
There are people with real issues. People who need help. People who spend every day sat in the shower, filling the bathtub with their own tears.
So take a step back, and look at what you have. Enjoy being happy, and don’t be scared to show it when you’re not. Reach a hand out to the people who can no longer see the sun through the clouds made by their evaporated tears. Cry with them but stop pretending you have it worse.
Mental illness is not a competition, and nor is happiness. We need to stop putting on a show.
And stop romanticizing pain.
