I'm bipolar with severe generalized anxiety disorder. I didn't receive ANY treatment for five years after the initial onset and it took another four to become stable.
I've never had social skills. I didn't understand other people or their emotions since I didn't know my own emotions. I especially couldn't comprehend this concept of "happiness." If this isn't telling, my favorite phrase for a decade was, "If I met myself on the street, I'd hate me." I've learned some things about happiness over the years but never really understood it. I can't remember being happy for more than a fleeting moment or two.
Lately I've realized the reason I've never understood happiness is because, well, I'm not happy with myself. How can life make me happy when I loathe myself? I realized that I started to loathe myself because it made the rejection and hatred of others easier to handle.
I'm going to tell you, The Band, a secret.
Promise not to tell? Good.
After I stopped cutting myself, I took up smoking. Cigarettes and weed. Lately, I've reevaluated my priorities and realized that I smoke less when I like myself more. Before, I didn't care about myself. You know? Who cares if I get cancer?
But now, I see things differently. Finally, a point to life!
My therapist asked what my life would be like if I wasn't filled with self-loathing. The honest answer is "I don't know." I can't fathom a life without self-hatred.
But while staring at the night sky, for the first time in years, I'm filled with the belief that I WILL be okay.
