Love Me Just The Same

If I were “normal” would you love me more? Would you be more accepting of me and everything I am? Would you love me more or would you love me just the same?

Treat me like I’m human. That’s all I’ll ask. Well, for that and your patience. Sometimes I just need you to be more empathetic when I’m having bad days. I don’t need or want yours nor anyone else’s sympathy. I just want you to be more empathetic.

I’m not perfect. I don’t wish to be the way that I am but it’s not something that will ever change. I wish I could snap into a good mood just as I do a bad one. It’d make my entire life more easy, and probably yours too. Don’t scold me if I don’t understand right away or I make some mistakes along the way. I’m doing my best. Please believe that.

A lot of days feel empty and lonesome for me. Others I feel on top of the world or I feel absolutely nothing at all. It’s not easy to deal with, and I know it’s not easy to understand. Just lend me your ears and maybe a hug too. Some days I want to kill myself and others I couldn’t be more glad to be alive. It’s a paradox.

I’m doing my best to make you proud despite my past mistakes. Please, leave that in the past. Bringing it up after it’s all said and done only makes the present more difficult on every party involved. I’m learning from those mistakes and will make new ones, just as you have before.

I want to feel accepted.

I know that mental illness is scary. It’s scary for me too. I don’t understand the voices I see, apparitions that pass at any given time. I don’t understand the highs and the lows I deal with day in and day out, and I wish I could because maybe I could stop them outside of having to take pills daily. I don’t enjoy it. No one really does. Even addicts really don’t enjoy them.

Being put on new medicine is a tiring, difficult process as I never really know what to expect outside of maybe a good mood and motivation to do my best. It can make you physically ill, more suicidal, more homicidal. More or less depressed. Less or more anxious than before. You never really know. Sometimes it makes you feel nothing at all, kind of like a zombie and that sucks more than being sad all the time.

No one wishes to be born with a mental disorder because, like all physical ailments, mental disorders hurt not only those with them, but also those surrounding that person. They feel like they’re a burden on their family, friends, etc and while realistically, we know we aren’t, your brain tricks you into believing that. Or believing other things, like you’re unworthy of love. That’s how I feel most of the time. I feel like I don’t deserve all the good I have in life because I feel like I’m a worthless person.

Not having as many panic attacks anymore has been a tremendous feat in my road to recovery. It’s been awesome. I want to tell you how happy I am, but I know it’ll get blown off to weight loss or jobs. It can never be that I’m just happy I am to have a day or two without a panic attack. Panic attacks not only affect my personal life, but also social and work life as well. I can’t tell when they’re going to hit. No one can. Most of the time anyways, unless it was triggered by something.

Do you know how annoying it is to know for sure you locked the car, but then your brain starts telling you that you didn’t and you should double, triple or quadruple check? And you do. I deal with that every day. Washing my hands constantly? Also every day.

I just want you to treat me and love me like you would if I didn’t have mental illness. Love me just the same. I want to be accepted and loved. I want to feel like I have someone to talk to. Just listen. Don’t talk. Just listen to me and understand I didn’t ask to be this way. It is something I deal with and have for a long time, and I’m doing my best to comprehend what’s going on in my head. I promise I’ll always do my best. Please just be there for me.


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