I don't know what to do with my blog. I've been thinking about the complaints I've gotten for the depressing nature of my blog... and yeah, I re-read the whole thing, and I was obviously depressed the entire time I was writing, until it got better. I can tell the week where my meds started to work - I changed and people continued to give me shit.
The one person in particular who was giving me shit is younger than me. She has CF and is going to school and lives with her parents. I don't know her except through a few online conversations and postings in a group's discussion board. I don't know where she thought it would be a good idea to anonymously bash me and everything I said for more than a month, but that's her business.
There are so many things I could say - I could defend my PTSD and my depression because they are real and exist. She "doesn't believe in most psych-illnesses" (yeah, she texted that to ME, the daughter of a PSYCHIATRIST). I have been raised to believe that mental illness is real. People suffer from mental illness just like they suffer from cancer, or here, I'll do it: Cystic Fibrosis.
Saying my PTSD doesn't exist and is all in my mind is like telling me that my CF is all in my head. They are equal. If I weren't on meds for my PTSD or depression I probably would have killed myself by now. My PTSD was that bad - I was suicidal. I was hurting myself daily - I was a picker, which is like cutting, but I used my fingernails on my face, back, chest and pretty much anywhere I could reach. If I made myself ugly, he'd stop stalking me. And then I would cover it up with a shit-ton of makeup, which never really covered anything, anyways.
So do I believe I have made the right choices? Yes. Do I know what I'm talking about? Yes. Do I need the medications for my mental illness just as much as I need the ones for my diabetes and my CF? Yes. Was I really fucking brilliant to finally recognize my depression early before IT made me suicidal like my PTSD did? Yes. Am I super glad a small dose of anti-depressant has me controlled for the moment - controlled enough to where I can take steroids for my sinuses without mood swings? Oh hell yes.
I still have days where I have things that will trigger PTSD moments - and sometimes I still pick - but I'm doing so much better. I started the picking at age 10. I remember the first time I did it. It was right before we went to Europe in the summer of 1996. I finally overcame my picking more than 10 years later - picking that escalated with the PTSD to the point where, well I don't know how to describe it. It was daily and it was severe. To stop, I had to cover all the mirrors, and even then until I was in therapy long enough I would still find ways to pick - I was picking in my sleep it was so bad. Even still, when I'm really stressed I will pick in my sleep.
Because of how I was raised and what I've been through myself, I would never doubt the severity of mental illness. That's just something you don't do. Imagine my hatred for Tom Cruise for what he has said about mental illness. The fact that they let that fool talk on national television has made me cry. I try not to judge other religions, but the way Scientology views mental illness is just unbelievable. Okay, we're not going to go there.
Moving on. I was re-reading my blog. I was conflicted on whether or not to even continue blogging. But I think the ignorance shown by a member of the CF community towards what other CFers might deal with is one of the reasons I should keep writing.
I've met some amazing people online. And sure, you never know what people are really like on the internet, but I have gotten some really good conversations, advice, and support from this blog, so I'm not going to stop writing.
I may not write as frequently until I completely make up my mind about how I want to continue this blog, but I will keep writing.
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