I can only talk about my mental illness w my friends and I think sometimes they don’t understand that once I see a professional about it or tell my family it will become real. It’ll be a real issue that I’m forced to talk about and deal with. It’ll be stares from family members and questions at dinner and having to sleep with my door open so they can check on me. It’ll be ignorance and family members not understanding that sometimes people don’t need a reason to feel this way, that nothing had to happened to cause this. It’ll be my brother being unapologetic for years of jokes about people with mental illness, and the continuation of those jokes bc he’s a shit person most of the time. It’ll be me inevitably having to come out to my granny and everyone else bc that’ll be where the story starts. It’ll be whispers when I get up to go to the washroom. It’ll make me the major topic of discussion. It’ll be having to talk about my assault and how I lost myself. It’ll be explaining to my mom that that one time in 11th grade when she picked me up from school bc I was having a panic attack and I told her “I’m just done,” I meant with living. It’ll be having to explain to my family that I hurt myself and why I did and how I managed to hide it for years. then it’ll be constant questions of “but what would make you hurt yourself? like I don’t understand why people do that. suicide is a sin.” it’ll be something I’ll have to face everyday in front of other people. bc honestly I could leave my friends if they were ever awful about it and just put them in my past to never deal with them again. but in my situation I can’t leave my family, I can’t escape them. I have nowhere to escape. especially not now. not while I’m living at home.
Maybe when I move next year I’ll get professional help on my own but I don’t need them to know about it.