Ignorance isn't Always Bliss
Because ignorance is the reason so many people are afraid to express their feelings and help cope with things like anxiety and depression. Many people are ignorant and tell those people that they "brought it on themselves", that they're "weak", it's "their fault", to "get over it", or that they "might as well kill themselves".
First of all, let me just say that I have not had anything confirmed. I don't have money right now to see a psychologist (lame-ass excuse, I know). I was going to see one last June. But I didn't make it to my first appointment. I don't know exactly what is the matter with me. Maybe one of you will help me figure it out, or give me an idea? One day, I will find out.
My problems aren't entirely my fault. Do I take responsibility for the parts that I am responsible for? Yes! Absolutely! But I didn't bring them on myself. I didn't ask my father to have an addiction to alcohol, or to beat the women he claimed to love. I didn't ask to have the thoughts that I'm a failure or ugly or stupid if something goes wrong. I didn't ask to have those thoughts that came with the nervous habits of cracking my knuckles and speaking in a low voice whenever I talk to someone. It's not entirely my fault that I come up with the worst-case scenario in my head whenever I have to talk to one of my professors or take a test or give a speech in class.
I'm flying to Georgia on Wednesday to see my boyfriend graduate from bootcamp in South Carolina this weekend. I'm having these "what-ifs" in my head. What if I don't have enough time to get to my connecting flight? What if something happens on the plane? What if...what if...what if...? I have a better chance of being in a car accident on the way to the airport than dying on flight. And yet I still have those thoughts.
I'm not weak for believing all these things about me that aren't true. I once read on Facebook in a post that people with mental illness (not saying I have one, but just in general) are very strong people. They have to live with some sort of negative voice every single day. You can overcome these things, but never get over them.
I can't "get over it". It's not that easy. As much as I want to, it's very hard to let go of the resentment I have towards my parents and my ex, among some others. I can't get over these feelings I have towards myself. Once again, it comes down to I can't afford the help right now. I could see my psychology professor, but I'm not exactly sure if I'm ready to know what it is. I don't know if it would make me feel better about myself, or if I'd just be confirming that I'm as crazy as I feel.
Along with this...sort of anxiety I guess you could call it, you can also add self-harm to my list. I'm hoping I won't get any hate for this post, especially for this. Hate me in your head all you want, talk shit about me to your friends all you want, but I don't need your negativity. I KNOW it's bad. I KNOW how badly it can destroy someone. I KNOW about how one wrong move can hurt me even more than I intend to, or even kill me. \
I've never been told to "just kill myself". I have, however, been kicked to the side of the road because of the misconception that cutting equals suicide attempt. I heard that a lot when I was taken to the...doctor's? I call it that because it wasn't an asylum or anything like that. I just drew a blank for what it's called...[blonde moment]. Anyways, I was asked that a lot there. Was I having thoughts of suicide and/or homicide? NO! I know it's a standard procedure or whatever, but you would think they would know after asking me once or twice that the answer is NO!
That's what my ex thought I was doing. And it's understandable, considering his past experiences with that sort of thing. But tossing me out and moving another girl in less than twelve hours later didn't help the situation any. If anything, he was assuring I would kill myself.
After I moved out of his house, I stayed with my grandmother for a few days. Everyone there, my grandma, great-grandma, sister, and brother-in-law were staring at my wrist that was covered up with my hoodie sleeve.
I haven't done it since then. I have thought about it, yes, but NEVER suicide. Ok, maybe that once when I was seventeen. That was when I first started to realize who my dad really is. But back in June, and now, I don't think about it. I have my nephew. I have a wonderful boyfriend who will give up his life to keep his country and mine safe. I have college, and my future teaching job to look forward to.
To get to the point, since it's bed time, you can't spew out your ignorance and hatred towards others when you don't know their story. Some things you can't just get over, and calling people names, or telling them to kill themselves doesn't help anything. It just confirms that it's a cold, cruel, selfish world we live in nowadays. Vanity and attention are at the top of our priority lists, and those who are different are shoved into the corner and taunted.
Ignorance isn't bliss. Neither is feeling like you're crazy. I may not know exactly what it is that is going on inside my mind, but I'm pretty sure it's not normal. And talking shit about me, as well as others with issues, just makes things a hell of a lot worse.
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