Sometimes the people in our life try their best to understand mental illness.

And it still falls short.

Sometimes the people in our life won’t understand.

And it’s not productive to hold that against them.

There have been a lot of people in my life that have let me go over the years.

For this reason or the other.

All due to my misunderstanding of my mental illness.

Usually, we were no longer a good fit.

And it hurt.

Hurts.

But it fades into the background slowly.

Just like most things in life.

Being rejected for things I literally can’t control.

Is heartbreaking.

Confusing.

I never knew what was happening.

I didn’t say anything that bad.

Right?

I didn’t do anything terrible.

Did I?

Half of the problem is that I can never remember anything.

Let alone what I said to upset someone.

I was usually more upset over some perceived unfairness in my life.

I could never see anyone’s pain over mine.

I just couldn’t.

I wasn’t aware of what was happening to me.

So how the fuck would I be able to understand how I affect anything?

I couldn’t see who I was.

Who I am.

What I was saying.

What was happening to me.

I wasn’t hyper aware like I am now.

I would say that I wanted to kill myself.

That I was going to kill myself.

Often.

It was always the ultimate answer.

Ending it all.

Over a situation.

A shitty doctor’s appointment.

Being thrown off my routine.

Whatever it was.

I would call friends and cry.

Hysterically.

At least twice a year per friend seemingly.

If not more with certain people.

I never understood why people would be so wary of me afterwards.

Why people would get frustrated with me.

Scared for me.

Scared of me.

Would start to distance themselves.

They didn’t need my oversharing.

They didn’t ever need me to be so seemingly dramatic from the outside.

They didn’t need to be put through that shit.

It’s intense.

It’s a shit coping mechanism.

But because I think about death all of the time.

All the time.

It’s always been a reasonable outcome for me.

Second nature to think about it.

To talk about.

For many years.

It was automatic.

Inevitable.

I couldn’t understand why people would be so reserved after I had been calling or texting them.

Bawling.

Bitching.

Claiming that I had to end it all.

Now.

In reality, I was just reaching out because I was having a hard day.

But I couldn’t express that properly.

I couldn’t just express that I am upset.

That this is frustrating.

I had to go to suicide.

There was no inbetween.

All or nothing.

Give or take.

Right or wrong.

And my friends at the time couldn’t understand my lack of logic.

My total “out there” thinking.

And speaking.

So they left.

Because I couldn’t stop.

I couldn’t even see what I was doing.

I couldn’t see how terrible this was.

There were plenty of other reasons too.

Reasons why friends left.

Sorta more of the same idea though.

Me not being able to handle my surroundings.

And collapsing in on myself.

And not understanding why no one wants to be around me anymore.

After years of maladaptive behaviors.

I have taught others how to treat me.

Keep me at an arms length.

Expect selfishness.

When that whole time.

I thought I was being selfless.

I thought I was an amazing listener.

And I would drop anything and everything to help a friend where I could.

I was met with that too.

That loving fire between friends.

But because I couldn’t see my mental illness for what it was.

I took advantage of them.

I held them hostage.

I was everything I’ve always hated.

And I couldn’t stop it.

I couldn’t see my behaviors for what they were.

So I had no idea I needed to fix anything.

I had friends suggest self help type things.

Books.

Articles.

Ted talks.

I would watch or read and just cry through it.

I couldn’t start doing that.

Because I can’t even  start to treat myself with any sort of acceptance.

I wasn’t even at the beginning of the behaviors they’re discussing yet.

I couldn’t see my starting point with anything self help like.

Because they weren’t talking to me.

They were talking about someone who’s at a healthy starting point.

Not mine.

Not me.

I’m just now putting things together that typical people put together in their 20’s.

I’ve never been able to see the starting point because I was never shown the prerequisites.

I didn’t even know they existed.

So it was like trying to start a task half way in.

I’m just lost.

And no one’s around anymore to listen.

– Keren