I’m Scared.

I’m scared that I won’t get the help I need. I’m scared that no matter how many times I ask (beg) for help, I won’t be listened to. I’ll be ignored. I’ll be forgotten. I’ll be lost in the system.

I’m scared that because I’m not an immediate threat to myself or others, that I’m dismissed as not important. I’m scared I’ll always be abandoned. By friends, family, and now professionals. I’m scared that because I’m able to ask for help, I’m not bad enough to receive it. I’m scared that I’ll be stuck in this in-between of not being ill enough but being too ill to function normally in the world.

I’m scared that I’ll always feel like I don’t belong here. Like I’m waiting to go home, but I don’t even know where home is. I’m scared I’ll never feel whole. That I’ll always feel incomplete. I’m scared that I’m not enough. I’m scared I’ll always need validation from others. I’m scared I’ll never be happy.

I’m scared that everyone thinks I’m not trying hard enough. I’m scared that everyone thinks I’m unreliable because I can’t always carry out the plans I make. I’m scared the people around me will get fed up of me.

I’m scared that I’m going to get worse again and I’ll no longer be able to ask for help. I’m scared that I’ll become a statistic. Another person who has statuses posted on facebook about them, the ones that say if only I had reached out for help I could have been saved. Well here it is. I’m reaching out. I need help, I’m not getting it, and I’m scared. 

How many more times will my referral be lost? How many more times will people say ‘just tell yourself you can do it’? How many more times will I lash out at people I love, because I cannot control my emotions? How many more times will I feel guilty for the way I am? How many more times will I feel less worthy because I’m not able to work? How many more times will I compare myself to my peers as if it’s a competition and I’m losing? How many people do we have to lose to suicide before we fucking listen to those suffering?
I’m scared and I’m angry.

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