An open letter to my mental illness

Everyone dealing with mental illness, deals with it differently. I, personally, have had a hard time coping with having one since I was diagnosed four years ago. I want to say I’m sorry for having an illness. I know I preach that you shouldn’t be ashamed to have a mental illness because you shouldn’t, and I know that, yet I find myself becoming a burden to people, and apologizing for it. I find myself getting annoyed at myself just for breathing. To be honest, I’m angry that I have a mental illness. It has brought nothing but darkness, pain, and negativity into my life. My people, the people I thought would be in my life forever, aren’t in my life anymore because they couldn’t take it. They couldn’t take the pain I was causing them. They couldn’t take the baggage I acquired because it was just too much. I have never been so alone in my entire life. Before, I only “felt” like I was alone because I couldn’t see that I had plenty of people around me who genuinely made me a priority to be in their lives. Now, I really am alone because everyone left.

Now, that I have gotten better, they’re gone. They can’t see how sorry I am for being the way that I am. They won’t hear me out long enough for me to apologize to because they simply don’t care, and that is there personal right to leave and not care. I run off everyone who comes in my direction because they can’t handle mental illness. My illness has broken down my body so much that I am everything but healthy. Medical bills add up, and insurance can only pay for so much. My poor parents don’t know what to do. I’ve become so unhealthy and sick that I feel like I’m dying. My medicine helps a lot, but it does make me feel numb to anything with emotion. I don’t cry when I’m on my medicine, even if I want to. But when I miss a dose or 4, then I’m on the brink of death again. You can’t win for losing. To my sorority sisters— the more you get to know me, the more you will find out how toxic and a burden I can be. I don’t know what more I can do to give my self-reassurance that you all won’t leave me, like everyone else did, because it isn’t a guarantee that you won’t. I’ve been down this road before.

My illness has made me a survivor, but it also made me a victim, and I’ll never forget that. I don’t know who to be mad at, so I take my anger out on myself, whether that be with self-harm, or negative comments towards myself. I miss the person I was before I was sick. I miss her so much. I would give anything to be my old self, have my old life back, and have my people back, but that’s not how life works, unfortunately. I will be on medicine for the rest of my life, and that is something I am trying to cope with. I know having mental illness is a handful, just like having cancer is a handful, but It still isn’t an ideal situation for anyone. I have had to come to terms with the fact that I will never be able to live a medicine free, happy and healthy life. I will always be the outcast because of my illness. This is an open letter to my mental illness, and with this I say, I hate you, Sincerely Me.

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