I’ve never done this before, but I find myself sitting here crying as I read more about the symptoms of my ocd. And really it’s also wrapped up in my ptsd. I feel a weight lifted off of my shoulders. To know I’m not alone. To be reminded I’m not a freak. It is not this relief or even the sadness of having the disorder that makes me cry.
What makes me cry is when I get to the part that should give me most hope: this is treatable. This ugly, distorted thing that has destroyed my relationships, my education, and my career for years is treatable. ERP is extraordinarily effective. There is one type of medication that simultaneously treats both of my illness.
What makes me cry is that I am locked in this cage. Every single day of my life spending it fighting what I wish was an invisible battle—but it’s not invisible because everyone sees the worst part of my mental illness. The shame and helplessness—their power takes my breath away.
Yet you refused to help me. Time and time again you have kicked me out when I have cried out for help. Once, my arms were covered in bruises from your “intervention.” Once, your cruelty had pushed me into a full blown psychosis. Once, I nearly killed myself while you ignored my knocking on the door and pleas for help.
You have betrayed me and your responsibility to me as a patient. As a sufferer of mental illness. I read how you help others. I wonder why them and not me? What is so awful about me that I don’t deserve your compassion and commitment and assistance?
I cry because I know there is treatment for my mental health and that it is being refused to me. It is not related to money or lack of knowledge or inaccessible care. It is a conscious choice the mental health professionals have made about my care time and time again. I am not deserving of their help. I am not worthy.
There is a privilege within the mental health community. Some people with mental health issues are privileged enough to be provided with care. The rest of us—you know the annoying ones or difficult ones—we are second class and we don’t get your help.
You choose to leave us sick.
And I can never forgive you for this.