Everything About Me Is Wrong

I don’t talk much about my depression in day-to-day life. I don’t talk about it here, and I don’t talk about it in RL. Sometimes on my LiveJournal, though I’ve tappered off over the years. If there is one thing I have learned in this life, is that people don’t want to hear about the sad. Most of the times when I do talk about it, I either get no response at all or a dismissive “things will get better” or “keep your chin up”. I know people think they are helping, however they are not. Anyway, my therapist thinks I really need to learn how to disclose to people and talk about things. Thus, I am going to try to do so. I’ll start in the written format, since I’m most comfortable there, and hopefully it’ll build into face-to-face stuff. I hope my disclosure helps people. I hope somewhere out there people can relate. And if not, well, it’s my blog so it doesn’t really fucking matter ayway (only it does, though I try to tell myself it doesn’t).

Today I would like to disclose that I feel like everything about me is wrong. Even the things I like about myself are wrong. I feel a constant separation from the world at large. I know, I know, everyone feels isolated and alone but we’re really not and if we could just talk and love one another then everything would be okay. I call bullshit on that one. As a 26-years-old (Is that the right way to write that? I can never figure it out.) woman who doesn’t drink, doesn’t have sex, doesn’t adhere to gender roles, is married to man who doesn’t adhere to gender roles, comes from poverty, and is an anarchist and humanist, I call bullshit. Do you have any idea how hard it is to meet someone? To make friends? I know, I know, everyone has problems meeting people, yet on the fundamental levels (at least, the levels we’re taught are fundamental) I don’t fit in. I don’t go out with people for drinks, I don’t hang out in bars like most people my age, I don’t like alcohol. I think it’s poison. I can’t hook up with my girlfriends to share tales about meeting men or having sex. I don’t think anyone’s life should revolve around matching up, and I really think there is more to life than having sex. That is not to say I think people are wasting their time, I have no judgment on how someone else lives their life, I just can’t relate and share and form friendships over it because it is foreign to me.

I find it near impossible to have friends which are married. It seems the only thing these people are concerned with are having kids, getting 9 to 5 jobs, buying houses, and trying to make a nuclear family. I’m not interested in that. I know every married person in the world isn’t doing this, just every married person I’ve met. Ha! Anyway, I don’t prescribe to any of that stuff. I’m not interested in having children, a day job, a house or living in a “typical” family environment.

Anyway, I won’t address every detail. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I do want to point out that ontop of this stuff, there is a level of intolerance in our Society. Everyone seems to hate someone for something. Discrimination is build into our every day language to the point where most people don’t realize it anymore. However, I do. I recognize it all the time and when I point it out, I feel as though the response is that I’m just being crazy PC. My husband thinks he is being all good male because he says he doesn’t like it when a woman wears make-up. Well, dear husband (and I tell him this too), it’s really not any of your business what a woman does with her body. Of course he concedes and acknowledges this, however if it would have been any other person things likely wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. Especially one who isn’t open minded. I know that I don’t /have/ to say things to people when they’re being discriminatory. Yet, I feel it is my duty as a human being who cares for other human beings to stand up against what isn’t right. I’m not an activist per se, I just believe for “evil” to win all it takes is for good people to stand around and do nothing.

So yes, my strong convictions cause me to be apart from the pact. I know there are many bloggers out there who talk about this same thing. How they are accosted for being too PC. It’s a hard knock life. Let me go even further. I have these “fundamental” things that keep me separate, I have these convictions that keep me isolated, and I have this profound sadness that makes it near unbearable to be in the world. I watch this discrimination that is built into our world, the way people scapegoat one another and hate and destroy and tear apart, and it literally breaks my heart. I feel the weight of it in my body. Every time. I just want to tell people if they stop, if they just stop pointing fingers and accept everyone’s autonomy and allowed people to make mistakes and be wrong than so much sadness could be erased. I’m not saying it would end all discrimination, that would be silly. I do think it would make the world a happier, more loving place though. And yet I cannot say these things, because I come off like a preaching, self-righteous, jerk.

So the world hates me. The world hates me because I am fat. The world hates me because I am Jewish. The world hates me because I do not want to be a mother, because I will not assume my role as “the wife”, because I refuse to bond over hating my body and diet-talk. The world hates me because I believe people should be able to kill themselves if they want and because I think patriarchy kills souls. The world hates me for so many things, and yet this wouldn’t be so traumatic if I could love myself. The world hates me for being a victim and for not picking myself up by my bootstraps as fast as they deem appropriate. Yet, I feel like I can’t and still live in the world. I feel in order to appreciate who I am, I would have to become a hermit and move away from all the hate people sling at one another. Because when anything semi-liquid is slung, there is back splash and spray and it gets on me and makes me hate myself. I hate that I can’t connect with people, or that I have to choose between connecting with them and being who I am.

So I am left with the same question that has been plaguing me for years, what is left, what do I do? If I can’t even find love for myself, or the goodness in the world and people, what the hell is left?

Invisible Diseases

Mental health is still a taboo subject in Western culture. Even though it is getting more coverage and gaining acceptance, those suffering from mental illness wake up every day preparing to fight. In cultures where it’s acceptable to question other people’s actions, opinions, and choices, as well as dictate how one can live their life, mental health is widely misunderstood. My therapist refers to depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses as “invisible diseases”. What one cannot see, they do not believe or understand. I’m not sure how the association escaped me for so many years, especially when the existence of God and the paranormal are so often brushed aside. I have never been so aware of the lack of understanding from people concerning my mental health until recently.

I have never been very active in the world. Most of my isolation was due to childhood abuse and socio-economic conditions. Now that I am married, and attempting to be out in the world, I lack a lot of the basic abilities most people enjoy. People terrify me, some days I am unable to get out of bed, I need a lot of down time to recoup from social outings, and I am so absorbed in my own head during most interactions that I spend most of my time alone, frustrated and confused. Thus, work is near impossible. Employers don’t look well upon people who call in several times a week, who break down into tears for no reason, and who don’t participate in office politics. So I am unemployed. Yet, nearly every day someone presents me with a new solution on how to get a job. Whether it be a new institute that is hiring, a suggestion of “just do it and you’ll feel better”, or questioning whether I want to be a “kept woman”, the consensus is that folks just don’t get it.

Thinking on this issue, as I tend to do a lot, I have realized that the separation I feel from society is largely due to my “invisible diseases” and people’s lack of understanding. I was abused and neglected as a child. It wasn’t until I started with my current therapist, at the age of 24, that I realized I was a victim of child abuse. She had said it in such a matter-of-fact manner, without judgment or uncertainty, I was stunned. At first I wanted to correct her, explain that while I had watched my parents fight and hurt one another they had never done so to me. I was never hit (aside from spankings, which were perhaps overly done during times due to young parent frustrations, that were all the rage when I was being brought up) or locked in dark closets when I was bad. I was never forced to drink soap or had a bone broken. Instead my spirit and heart were tormented.

Every day I was reminded that I would never be loved unconditionally, that I caused more problems then I was worth, that I would never amount to anything, and that I would never be able to do anything right. When these messages weren’t being drilled into my psyche, I might as well have not existed. I was not allowed to leave the house, or have outside activities. I quickly lost every friend I gained because my parents didn’t approve. My school participation was regarded without care, and no extracurriculars were allowed for numerous reason: we didn’t have money, I was too fat, I had no talent, I wasn’t attractive or friendly, I didn’t possess the right skills and I was able to learn, I didn’t make my parents believe I wanted it enough or I had forgotten to clean my room earlier in the week. It didn’t matter the reason really, the result was a life indoors with only the television for company.

I realize, now, that this is abuse. I spent years feeling I was simply crazy. There was something wrong with me. I couldn’t function in society because I was mentally insane, and therefore I was useless and deserved to die. I was not worth the air that I breathe. After all, my life wasn’t bad. I didn’t get abused (which in my mind constituted physical or sexual), I had food, I got to watch TV whenever I wanted, both of my parents were still around. Yes, I had watched the extensive domestic violence within my household for several years, but there are others who have seen so much, why then wasn’t I able to get past it? Insanity, pure and simple. Children are often given seminars about abuse, but these seminars focus on the sexual and physical side. The symptoms of mental and emotional abuse are never really addressed. Even teachers, doctors, social workers are taught in a way to focus on the sexual and physical side. Someone like me, who was abused in a very minority way, is left undetected and without help.

The realization that I am not crazy and I was abused is astonishing. I have hope for the first time in as long as I can remember. I feel like I can beat this thing. I was abused and now, with the right treatment, I will return as a functioning member of society. I no longer believe that I am unworthy, just that I lived in a world that taught me that I was, and slowly, but surely, I will start to see the truth beneath all the lies. Abuse of this caliber is just as crippling as physical or sexual, only people cannot use their eyes to see our scars. Instead, most of the time we suffer alone taking the responsibility and blame onto ourselves. We do not see someone who has risen from adversity or survived, but only someone who is wrong, shameful, and worthless. Not only do the people we encounter not understand our disease, we do not understand it. If one were in full body case, then others would not expect them to “do it anyway” if it hurt. One would not be told they are faking it, or to get over the anguish. The injured would be given understanding, acceptance, and plenty of time to heal. Those of us with “invisible diseases” have to remember that we are deserving of the same. Just because we cannot see the barriers, and others do not understand, does not mean we need or deserve anything less.