Today was a REALLY good day. But I had to do something that I absolutely hate doing, and that’s telling someone about my anxiety for the first time.
It’s hard for me to look straight at someone and tell them about my anxious thoughts, which lead to depressing thoughts. I can’t look them in the eye when I tell them that depressing thoughts lead to suicidal thoughts, and that I don’t believe people when they tell me they love me or I’m not annoying. When this person asked if I didn’t believe them when they told me they loved me, I had to say yes, and I had to watch them look away and work through it. I explained that my brain is battling itself; half of me accepts the truth, that I’m loved, and the other half rejects it and accepts the lies that Satan feeds me.
It’s bad, but it’s also ok. I accept that this is who I am and that God made me this way. This is something I’ll have to deal with my whole life.
Some days are hard. I explained that on good days, like today, I try to document all the good things, the things that remind me I’m loved. I stockpile these things, hoarding them away, so on bad days, I can take them out and hold them and convince myself that they’re true. I told them that I would remember how they said I was fun to be around, and sometime in the future, I would recall them saying that and try to believe it.
The main thing I hate isn’t my struggling. I’m used to that. Instead, I hate seeing someone I love realize how twisted up and broken I am inside.
This post was taken from my Instagram @you_.are_.lovely. Follow it for more encouragement, mental health, religion, etc!
Edit: I’ve been told that this post could be taken too hard. I want to make it clear that I’m doing really well now overall. This post was written several years back in a pretty rough patch. I haven’t felt that crushing depression in several years. This is just sort of a look back at how I used to think and what used to go on inside my brain.