When my anxiety and other problems began, I began to feel like I am less than. Worthless. Next to nothing. Not because of how other people treat me, but because of how I see myself. I’m ashamed that I can’t handle large crowds or even small one on one meetings. I’m ashamed that my anxiety has gotten so bad that I have to have a dog with me to tell me when my emotions are too high. I’m ashamed that when my emotions get too high, I have a seizure. I’m ashamed that I considered and even tried to end it all.
I am so ashamed that I always take second best. Whether it be letting the person I’m with go first in line, or letting them take the bed and me the floor. Often times you’ll find me cowering in the corner of the room during a social gathering, trying not to be in the way. People always give me the choice of the better option, but I think they feel obligated since I am so crazy in the head that I have to have a service dog.
I’m probably exaggerating a bit, but this is the way my anxious and depressed mind sees these things. I am constantly punishing myself for ever being, and continuing to be, sick. I think it became a permanent thing when it was revealed that I was planning to take my own life a couple years ago, and my parents were just angry. Saying things like, “How could you even think to do this?” Or, “This is such an evil thing to choose, so don’t do it or you’ll go to hell.”
That response has left me so angry and hurt. So, instead of punishing them, like I did for the first year after my suicidal intent was discovered, I am punishing myself. I think my subconscious has taken it to heart and I am now living my day to day life choosing the second best options…in everything. Even when I’m at home and we only have one slice of my favorite pizza or leftover chicken bog, I choose the chicken bog.
The guilt is killing me. Which makes it worse when the depression also has an intent to kill me off. Not a great combo, but I will soldier on as I have these past two years. Just continue to feel like I am worthless.