The only constant in my life has been these demons in my mind. This sickness has always been there when no one else was around. When everyone has gone and left me alone, it is there. It wraps my mind in its arms and tells me it will always be there, forever, when everyone else is dead and has run for the hills.
My demons will never abandon me. They fill my mind with negativity, but they convince me they’re just being realistic and taking care of me. So many things I have missed in this life: opportunities to grow as a person and to just experience life have been forced to a halt thanks to my mind.
The things they whisper, I believe everything they say.
You can’t do it.
They will hurt you,
Judge you,
Leave you,
Abandon you.
They always do.
You are safer here,
Locked away in your mind.
You don’t need them.
You don’t need this world.
You weren’t made for it.
You were made to be in here.
Feelings of guilt and shame.
Constant fear of experiencing life. Of leaving my home. I surrounded myself with things instead of people. Things wouldn’t leave me. People will. Objects and fictional characters became my identity, my life. I kept using them to fill the empty parts of my head. Trying to find happiness in them.
All while creating this person I didn’t know, this image for the world to see. Because of course, the world wouldn’t want to see the real me, the train wreck, basket case. Anyone who’s glimpsed it always ended up running for the hills, or made me feel like a monster.
But am I a monster?
I didn’t choose my mind.
This life.
I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.
How can I be a monster?
“Crazy,”
“Manipulative,”
“Psycho,”
“Negative,”
“Emotional,”
“Freak,”
That’s what they’ve called me.
It must be true?
No, it’s not true!
If it was, then why would I feel guilt for every little thing I do wrong. When I accidentally hurt someone, it hurts me 10 times more. I can’t be a monster. I’m sick, but why can’t they see it? Why is it so hard to grasp my brain just isn’t right. Every time someone is cruel, it shoves me back into my mind to my demons, who love me and will never leave.
It shouldn’t be that way. Why don’t people want to understand. Accepting I’m sick, just as if I had any another illness. But because my mind is sick that isn’t OK?
It is OK! I’m not the only one!
There’s so many of us and we shouldn’t have to be shunned, treated like we are a virus, ignored and shoved in the corner by everyone. It’s time to take a stand and end this stigma. Our brains are sick, but that’s OK.
I wanted to thank Twenty One Pilots. After seeing them in concert the other night, they gave me the motivation to do this blog. They help people with their songs. Hopefully, I can help people with this.
Image via Thinkstock.
This post originally appeared on Hello Tristan.
I am a 27 -year-old Canadian who has been suffering with a mental illness my whole life. I want to end the stigma and help others.
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