For some reason, I woke up in the mindset of reflection this morning. A thought that haunts me from time to time came to visit once again. It centers around my struggle with mental illness and all of the agonies it has brought into my life.
One source of agony I did not anticipate it coming from though, was from my own family. Something that has always confused me is the question of- if someone knows you are struggling with a mental illness, why would they choose to be unkind to you instead of compassionate?
You would think that one of the places in life a person could feel safe in would be in the presence of their own family, but in my life, the opposite has been true. It rips my heart out, but the pain has lessened over time. Some days are worse than others.
I may never get the answers that I seek. I have come to a few conclusions on my own about why they would treat me this way, but what else is a person to do when they have been treated so badly by those who should be treating them with love?
It is something we all crave in situations- closure. It’s really sad that it needs to be called closure. At this season in our lives, we could all be enjoying each other’s families, but instead, I must stay away because I never know when I will be met with some type of abusive behavior.
Of course, this behavior does not come from all of my family, and I would never name names, but they know who they are, and if they don’t realize what they have done then all I can assume is that they must be a true psychopath or something to be lacking such empathy.
It’s not some misunderstanding that has been misconstrued in my mind. When that many F-bombs were thrown at you, I don’t think you can really take it any other way than that someone is being verbally abusive toward you.
These outcomes stemmed from my struggle with mental illness. Certain members of my family have always felt like it has been their right to get into my business about my mental health. It originally starts as a conversation masquerading as supportive but seems to be filed away for later usage.
Some emotions revisit because they still hurt. This doesn’t mean I haven’t forgiven, it means I still hurt over it. I have lost my family because I can’t remain sane when I am around them. That hurts. It’s a harsh reality for me because they used to be my only friends. They used to be my life.
I don’t know if they realize or care how much this has affected me. I don’t really know who any of them are on the inside.
I think that one of the issues that has always existed has been that I am very different from all of them. Aside from my mental illness, we must have some sort of personality clash. I am a very sensitive person, and some of them can be so rude and mean to me that I don’t think I would treat my worst enemy in those ways.
Sometimes it really gets to me and I lash out and become just like them. Thankfully it doesn’t last. It would be really hard to live with myself if I treated others so badly- especially the ones I claim to love.
So here I am, during my moments of reflection, and I could say so much more about the subject, but I want to really focus on my main question- if I knew that someone was struggling with a mental illness, would I choose to have compassion on them, or treat them with hatred? Would I choose to call the police on them when they were feeling low, or would I reach out to them and try to help? Is it smart to go around people who would do such things to me? I think not.
Until next time, stay safe, and be blessed! 🙂
