Today, I want to talk about something that has been on my mind constantly: my inner critic. You would think having an inner critic would be good, right? It can be, but to a certain extent. When you’re depressed and anxious, your inner critic can tear you to shreds. Many people may not realize anxiety and depression are illnesses. It’s something that can physically and mentally wear and tear on you every single moment of your life.
I’m a person who might be considered “sensitive.” Any little comment or input on who I am as a person, I take as a personal attack. The person who makes a comment might not intend this, but their comments make me fall apart. I analyze them over and over, and I think to myself, “What if I really am these nasty things?” Others might say, “Of course you’re not what they say.” But I am so self-loathing that I begin to doubt myself.
This happened recently; something I said was taken out of context, and a rumor was started. I got so down and depressed I began to cut, and eventually I thought about attempting suicide — but last minute, I changed my mind. I saw flashes of all who I loved reacting to my passing, and I just couldn’t bring myself to end me.
I was still depressed for a long period of time and even let the people who were bullying me make me believe I was all they said I was. I apologized for things I knew deep down I didn’t do, because I was desperate for support.
No matter how desperate one can get, I hope no one stoops to the level I got to, believing they’re something they are not. I struggle with this daily. Many sensitive people do. We don’t want to be disliked; we don’t want to be hated or misunderstood by anyone. But by giving into what other people think, we only dig ourselves deeper into this never-ending abyss of darkness.
Don’t let the world tell you who you are. No matter how much your confused, anxiety-ridden mind wants to think everything is your fault, the majority of the time it isn’t. You have to stop blaming yourself and just accept that not everyone is going to like you — but that doesn’t matter. What matters is there are people who do love you and care for you and see you as you want to see yourself. Will I ever see myself as the people I love do? I honestly don’t know. But we have to try. We have to keep going despite what eats away at us in our alone times. We all may be breakable, but we should never let ourselves become broken.
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