*emaline* (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sanityisrelativ) wrote,@ 2007-09-28 22:10:00 |
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Sometimes I wish I had cancer.
yes, I realize what an outlandish statement that is. Yes, I realize that it is a horrible thing to survive, and a horrible way to die. I mean no disrespect to anyone who has survived the disease, or lost a loved one.
But, when you say that you have cancer, people understand that you are sick. When you have to tell people that you have a mental illness, they look at you with confused eyes. They pity you, they judge you. There is such a stigma attached to the term. People think that you either 'hear voices' or that you're faking. Like this is something that you picked up one day to get attention. This is a disease that runs my life. This is a disease that could potentially kill me. I wish that people could see that it IS a disease, and that it IS potentially fatal. This WAS NOT a choice.
Part of me hates that it is a disease, that it is a label. I hate that it defines me, it is more of 'me' than who I am. (that may not sound like it makes sense, but its true). This illness, this other part of me occupies more of my mind, more of my daily thoughts, than 'I' do.
I feel like I should walk around with a shirt that says 'ANOREXIA NERVOSA, OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER, SEVERE DEPRESSION, GENERALISED ANXIETY DISORDER, PANIC DISORDER' . People want an answer, they want a reason. People want to understand why I do the things that I do. There is no explaining it. Unless you live in my head, you won't understand the reasons I give.
I hate that one day I hate what it does to me and the next I am proud. I can't ever picture a life without ana. There is no world beyond the one I have now. Maybe that sounds closed, like I've given up. I have. I can't go anywhere without my thoughts. Not one day, not one minute. No matter what else occupies every minute, ana is always there too. A constant companion. A friend. A saboteur.
Some days it's all I have, most days it's all I want.
No matter what else I accomplish, no matter what else happens in the day, the only thing that makes me feel even remotely satisfied is to be empty. To have another pound lost. Nothing else. nothing.
sometimes I long for nothing...
ema
yes, I realize what an outlandish statement that is. Yes, I realize that it is a horrible thing to survive, and a horrible way to die. I mean no disrespect to anyone who has survived the disease, or lost a loved one.
But, when you say that you have cancer, people understand that you are sick. When you have to tell people that you have a mental illness, they look at you with confused eyes. They pity you, they judge you. There is such a stigma attached to the term. People think that you either 'hear voices' or that you're faking. Like this is something that you picked up one day to get attention. This is a disease that runs my life. This is a disease that could potentially kill me. I wish that people could see that it IS a disease, and that it IS potentially fatal. This WAS NOT a choice.
Part of me hates that it is a disease, that it is a label. I hate that it defines me, it is more of 'me' than who I am. (that may not sound like it makes sense, but its true). This illness, this other part of me occupies more of my mind, more of my daily thoughts, than 'I' do.
I feel like I should walk around with a shirt that says 'ANOREXIA NERVOSA, OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER, SEVERE DEPRESSION, GENERALISED ANXIETY DISORDER, PANIC DISORDER' . People want an answer, they want a reason. People want to understand why I do the things that I do. There is no explaining it. Unless you live in my head, you won't understand the reasons I give.
I hate that one day I hate what it does to me and the next I am proud. I can't ever picture a life without ana. There is no world beyond the one I have now. Maybe that sounds closed, like I've given up. I have. I can't go anywhere without my thoughts. Not one day, not one minute. No matter what else occupies every minute, ana is always there too. A constant companion. A friend. A saboteur.
Some days it's all I have, most days it's all I want.
No matter what else I accomplish, no matter what else happens in the day, the only thing that makes me feel even remotely satisfied is to be empty. To have another pound lost. Nothing else. nothing.
sometimes I long for nothing...
ema
