Saturday, June 3, 2017

The bottom drops out

So it's almost 1 pm. It's a hot, hazy, and humid Saturday - the first time it's reacher 90 degree F here this season and we're lethargically lying about, trying to summon the will to venture outside or even eat....

Yesterday was bad.

I'm coming out of a relapse and I'm not fully in my right or rational mind - so I posted photos of my self-harm wounds on social media. The backlash was swift. And intense. I guess I kind of expected that. I didn't expect to lose friends over it though - instead of offering support or even wishes that I get help for what's eating me, I got "You'll regret that." "You should stop." "Please don't hurt yourself." And while that's all very well and good, does absolutely nothing to address the fact that I'm hurting and THAT'S what should have been the focus of any comments. People will tell you to stop self-harming because it's a piece of knowledge that makes them uncomfortable, not because they actually care about the suffering of the person self-harming.

What a wake-up call.

Color me enlightened.

So a handful of people unfriended me yesterday and two of them even blocked me, so I can't even reach out and offer constructive criticism about better ways to respond to people with severe mental illness.

And this bitch....this one bitch....

She had the nerve to write me an essay long comment about how posting about my mental illness on Facebook isn't going to get me the help I need or "cure" me, like I didn't already know that, and how cries for attention would only backfire on me. It's just funny, because she approached it very much like a neurotypical presenting a case to another neurotypical, and NOT someone who was in a weird mental state where reality was in flux. So naturally, I lashed out pretty hard against her. What did she expect? You're trying to condescend to a mentally ill person who isn't quite right in the head and you expect a rational and understanding response? Fuck yourself, you don't get it.

Good riddance to that person too. It's my fucking page, I can post what I like and maybe I put those photos up for posterity and as a reminder that you never know who in your life might be suffering silently. I guess we're all just supposed to keep that suffering to ourselves or ONLY reach out to medical professionals/therapists. Well that's nice, Alexsandra, but we can't all afford to see medical professionals about ailments, certainly not when a therapy session costs $100 a pop and you have no health insurance. Hmmmm...

I'm just venting. I really am. Clearly....I can't do it anywhere else. And this is my blog, so if anyone comes in here and tries to tell me what I can post in my own motherfucking blog, I'm probably gonna lose my mind. Ugh.

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