On a board that I enjoyed going to, there is a thread and there are posts in this thread about me. Posts that aren’t exactly flattering. I didn’t know about the posts until 2 months after they were posted, but being me, I had to say something. Now, instead of saying those things about me, people are calling me selfish and lazy and questioning how I could have money problems. I just want them to stop talking about me. Is that too much to ask? Maybe I shouldn’t have responded to what they said in the first place, but I just thought I needed to at the time. Now, I feel uncomfortable on that board and feel like everyone is judging me. I don’t want to stop going there, but I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like they’re not thinking bad things about me. It was one of the few boards that I did feel comfortable on, so now I feel more uncomfortable on the boards that I’d already felt uncomfortable on. I’m just tired. Tired of all the stupid internet drama. Tired of people picking apart what I say. Tired of people posting things specifically to bash me. Hell, I’m tired of people posting things specifically to bash other people, too. It all just seems like a waste of time.
I’m tired of life, too. It just keeps throwing me lemons instead of good stuff. I have my good days, but then I’ll have my days where everything falls apart. I’ve tried to keep some of the stuff to myself and off of here because its just personal. I’ve even kept parts of it out of my LJ, where I post the more private stuff about my life, simply because I either don’t want people to know about it or don’t want to be judged for it. I know I’d be judged. If anyone is going to have people making a mockery of their life, then its going to be me.
I’m tired of being angry. I’m angry a lot of the time now. Anything can make me mad. I think I’m stressed out. I’m still on Christmas break, but I’m stressed out. Isn’t this supposed to be the time of destressification? Aren’t I supposed to be going around going “happy, happy, joy, joy” and laughing or something like that? I’m angry with people online. I’m angry with people offline. I’m mad that the nurse didn’t want me to see my psychiatrist for 3 months. I’m even more upset that the psychiatrist didn’t want to see me after the first visit and instead deferred to a nurse. He doesn’t know me well enough to do that. He should at least be seeing me himself once every few weeks or once a month. I’m mad at my therapist, too. She should be seeing me for longer than 30 minutes once a month. Again, she doesn’t know me well enough to do that. Admittedly, I agreed to the 30 minutes once a month thing, but I figured I didn’t have any other choice. Otherwise, she would have begrudgingly been seeing me for an hour once a month (I doubt she would see me more often than once a month) and we wouldn’t accomplish anything. She would want me to be telling everything I told her to my psychiatrist. That’s pretty much what she tells me in our sessions. “Tell the doctor about that” seems to be her favorite line.
I’m tired of people not understanding mental illness or medications that are taken for mental illness. People like to make snap judgments about the mentally ill. Either we’re faking it or we’re so crazy that we need to be in the hospital. Of course, though we may need to be in the hospital, we don’t need medication. You see, unlike other problems with the body, mental patients apparently don’t need medications because our problem is in our head. Mental illness is still a physical problem. It needs physical treatment, but getting that across is difficult, if not impossible.
I’m tired of being accused of wanting pity and attention. I don’t want pity. I don’t want attention. I want to be acknowledged, but I don’t want to be noticed. I want people to have a feeling that I’m there, but I don’t want them to run screaming towards me and make some spectacle over my being there. I want quiet acknowledgement.
I would love it if I could curl up in my bed and go to sleep for a long time, preferably forever. I can’t though. I have places to go and things to do, and no one will let me just wither away. Why won’t they let me wither away?
On the bright side, when I’m tired, angry, and depressed, I get cravings. Last night I decided to make sugar cookies. I’d never made them before, but I just had to make them. They were a distraction. I need more distractions.