If you think people that talk about mental health are only begging for attention, you are the problem.
I am so tired of people mental health shaming. I see post all day saying how if you are open about having a mental issue that you are just looking for attention and someone that really had that problem would be too scared to announce it to the world. If you really believe that, you are the problem. I’ve suffered with depression, anxiety, and PTSD for a good part of my life. You’re right. Usually I don’t run around parading it but I also do share my story when I know it could help someone or damn it might even just be to talk about something i’m dealing with to help myself understand it more. There is no rule book to mental health issues. Everyone is a different type of person and therefore everyone reacts differently with the symptoms they have.
Sometimes I can’t get out of bed but I talk about it so that the person that feels the same despair but is quiet about it knows they aren’t alone. Sometimes I have intense panic attacks where I think that I am dying and there is no way out of my impeding death and I share that so people who feel the same urgency but are quiet about it know that both of our reasons to panic are most likely not going to happen even if we feel it in the core of ourselves when our body is shaking and we cant breathe.
No, anxiety or depression isn’t fucking cute but there is a HUGE difference in glorifying it and making aware of people who struggle with its every day troubles. Remember that the next time you tell someone they should be quiet about their mental health. Next time you shrug off your employees need for a mental health day but let your other employee be gone because they have a broken arm. I’ve had a broken arm and I’ve had panic attacks where I think my death is coming that very minute and I would rather have a million broken arms than think I am going to die over and over again. That’s what anxiety feels like. Some crazy unlikely thing is going to happen and there is no way to avoid it.
It’s like your mind is a hell and the only escape is the few seconds a day when you get a breath of fresh air. I would not wish the things I have felt on my worst enemy. So please PLEASE stop shrugging them off. PLEASE stop thinking people are just grasping for attention. You know why? Because they are grasping for attention. Not in a “I’m cute look at me” way. In a “please help me escape my inevitable death” way. The more you understand that the more you will understand the person you care abouts reason for telling you they are hurting.
There’s beauty in the pain, can you see it?
Crushed dreams are worth as much as shredded classified documents. Sprinkled on your life as a reminder that you failed. You can desire something as much as humanly possible but if you don’t have the will and the action to take upon your dreams, they will be discarded like last months magazine. Your proof isn’t in your bright eyes or your smile when you think about your dream. It’s in your aching feet and in your scarred hands.
Dreams are a call to action not a hint of hope. Hope is healthy for the heart when you think you won’t make it anymore but motivation is what causes you to never need hope again. You’ll never be in a position where you need hope if you are doing what it takes to get past it. Hope is a milestone after you hit rock bottom. Faith is what takes you the rest of the way. Faith in yourself. That the dreams you have had can’t be ruined by someone who doesn’t think you can accomplish them because they weren’t capable of accomplishing their own desires.
Take the hope you get when you’re a writhering plant, believe in yourself, and water yourself daily so you can be as strong as you were before all of the nastiness of the world infected your views of yourself and your accomplisments.
Your patience, it’s worn thin. You hate yourself.
That’s okay dear, all the truth you need is right here.
Look really closely, try to find it in your soul.
I know it’s hard but if you concentrate you might see you’re just filled with hate.
What you project unto the world is what you project everyday into your heart.
Poor blackened heart, I hope one day you rot and put that disgusting soul where it came from. No hope, just dirt.
You were my hope but now all the hope I have is in watching the sun rise to remind me I am still alive
I’m happy right now. I get like that sometimes. Happy. For no god damn reason. It’s almost as if my body is trying to remind me that I am still alive. That I still have some remnant of hope and motivation in my exhausted body.
I stayed up watching Sons of Anarchy and time got away from me commonly how the consumer is to a machine. That’s all I did these days. Watch this show about a biker gang to keep my mind in the consistent loop to make sure from breaking and having to face reality. Weird mindless tricks to keep me alive. It’s 7 am or it’s gotta be sometime around then because the sun is breaking through the trees. I’m watching this sunrise and trying to capture this in my mind perfectly. That will never work so I took some real pictures, too.
Sometimes I hope these cigarettes will last forever. This moment is too good. Red hot chili peppers, a windy morning, and the sun rising over these trees and the treehouse so precisely that it could be painted. I wish I could paint. I would paint this view perfectly. Maybe I would even add me sitting here, smiling in contentment with this half lit cigarette in between my worn fingers.
This moment is perfectly imperfect and thats what I live for. If I could add sound with my picture just like the painted waterfall that used to make noise in my grandma’s living room I would play the distant airplane and the faint music that is inspiring me to be a better human being.
I often times have a love/hate relationship with this world I was thrown on without a manual, but right now in this exact moment I fucking love this shitty world I was born on.