Lately, people around me keep on saying that I’ve dramatically dropped weight. It should have made me happy because I’m a fat lady who wants to be skinny. But nowadays, that’s not the case. I’m actually eating a lot—the same as before—but people see the opposite result of what I’m doing. They thought I’m taking a diet program or whatnot; but actually, the cause of it lies inside my head.
I’ve read a blog about this guy who had a mental illness, saying he tried to take his life due to depression but thank God, he didn’t. He said writing about his depression made him save his life. And I think that’s actually what I want to do right now. But the thing is, I’m not like him—sharing his woes openly. I have a lot of things in my life that I’m not confident to share; things in the past and also in the present. It’s not easy for me.
The reason why I don’t share is because I’m scared. I’m scared of people judging me. I’m scared of people using my weaknesses to hurt me. I’m scared of being the center of attention. I’m so scared of people not understanding what I’m actually feeling inside. I’m scared to death.
To be honest, I haven’t told anyone what I really feel inside and what really happened in the past and what is happening in the present; even to my friends and family. I actually tried doing it but when I’m already there, thoughts like “Maybe they won’t listen to me!” “Maybe they’ll think I’m lying!” “Maybe they’ll get the wrong idea!” “Maybe they’ll think it’s not important!” keep on bugging me. So in the end, I don’t share. I don’t talk about it. I just listen to them sharing their own stories.
I’ve tried to write it down in journals, too. But even in that way, I can’t. I’m scared that people might read it. Imagine those criminal cases where the criminal tried to write his/her wretchedness in a journal just to bind his/her conscience. And then eventually, the police will find it and will take it against him/her. That’s how I feel. That’s why I keep all these madness inside my head to make it safe—at least that’s how I think it is. But you see, just like the criminal’s conscience, it’s eating my soul (and perhaps my body).
But what can I do?
I’ve actually considered getting a help from psychiatrists, too; but the lack of finances hinders me. Maybe I’ll take it when I’m able. But right now, I’ll just let this “thing” eats me. It’s my demon, I guess.
But I hope someday, these things inside my head will find their peace because I don’t want to be like this forever. I want to be able to share to someone. I want to stop lying to myself and to others. I want to meet people with all honesty. I want to find my mind’s peace and serenity. I don’t want to die having all these thoughts and secrets inside my head.
Update as of editing
A while ago, I started opening up a little to my two friends. And somehow, it made me feel less alone and burden less. I think it helped me, yes. But still, the darkest part of my entirety are still hidden to people I care; I’m still alone in that dark place. But let’s see. Baby steps, I guess!