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I’m Ashamed of My Mental Illness

Sitting here, in my car passenger seat, waiting for my signature espresso drink, I’m full of self-hatred.

I’ve let just about all of Facebook and social media know that I struggle with mental health issues, along with friends, family, etc. Although they know I struggle, I assume they also see me as a functioning adult who inspires others to be more open about their mental health and stability.

Most days, I understand that helping and inspiring others who struggle with what I do is a gift. It’s enlightening to see people blossom!

Today though, I need to be one of those I help. I need assistance; I need someone like me to listen or to take the place of a caregiver I never had and am still grieving over. I need someone to soothe me. (Even though I know only I can do and am responsible for that.)

I’ve had a lot of validation in my short life that confirms I am too much.

Today, it really feels like I am.

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