In my opinion, the worst part of having mental health problems ruin your life is that... it's you. It's you doing it to your own life. At least, that's how it feels to me.
Due to my social anxiety I spent what were supposed to be some of the best years of my life (my late teens and early twenties) alone at home too scared to go out anywhere. Locking myself up and shutting myself off completely from everyone.
I'm so incredibly insecure about my physical appearance (I have Body Dysmorphic Disorder). Because of my social anxiety in high school I didn't usually dare to go to parties. I went to a single party and I immediately had 2 girls hit on me one of whom became my first girlfriend. The first month I went to college, I had a girl show interest in me too (though I said I wasn't ready for anything because my previous girlfriend had broken up with me only a month before). After that though my social anxiety made me have to quit college for years and so I didn't meet a single new girl. What if I had? Would there have been more girls who hit on me? Would I maybe have eventually felt that I actually looked good?
And that just makes me think because I'm getting older now... did I have good looks after all and just completely waste them? And has age just taken them away now? That thought is... horrifying. It makes me want to cry.
And my failure anxiety made me not be able to complete college. I've always been quite smart. I could've completed it. I had the capacity to. I know that. I could've gotten a doctorate even. And yet... I couldn't do it in the end because my failure anxiety made studying for an exam a living hell that I eventually emotionally collapsed trying to do. Having to quit college as a result without my diploma.
And for most of this year I was doing a bit better again. Had a new girlfriend and everything. And yet my depression wouldn't fully go away. Instead of spending all of 2023 trying to fulfill my dream of becoming a professional writer, I spent so much of it just doing... nothing. Scrolling through Reddit and Twitter because I was too freaking depressed to write.
And I feel like I've done all of this stuff to myself. I could've gone out more when I was in my late teens and early twenties. I could've done those exams. I could've spent the last year writing. These were all things I could've done but I just chose not to do them. Because of my stupid fucking mental health problems. Because of my anxieties and this crushing weight of depression.
I hate myself so much.
I feel like I ruined my life for no reason. For just no reason at all. Just grabbed it and threw it in the garbage.
If my parents hadn't emotionally abused me throughout my childhood I probably wouldn't have developed all of these fucking mental health problems. Then maybe I could've actually had a good life. But I guess that was too much to ask for. I blame myself the most, but I blame them too.
Due to my social anxiety I spent what were supposed to be some of the best years of my life (my late teens and early twenties) alone at home too scared to go out anywhere. Locking myself up and shutting myself off completely from everyone.
I'm so incredibly insecure about my physical appearance (I have Body Dysmorphic Disorder). Because of my social anxiety in high school I didn't usually dare to go to parties. I went to a single party and I immediately had 2 girls hit on me one of whom became my first girlfriend. The first month I went to college, I had a girl show interest in me too (though I said I wasn't ready for anything because my previous girlfriend had broken up with me only a month before). After that though my social anxiety made me have to quit college for years and so I didn't meet a single new girl. What if I had? Would there have been more girls who hit on me? Would I maybe have eventually felt that I actually looked good?
And that just makes me think because I'm getting older now... did I have good looks after all and just completely waste them? And has age just taken them away now? That thought is... horrifying. It makes me want to cry.
And my failure anxiety made me not be able to complete college. I've always been quite smart. I could've completed it. I had the capacity to. I know that. I could've gotten a doctorate even. And yet... I couldn't do it in the end because my failure anxiety made studying for an exam a living hell that I eventually emotionally collapsed trying to do. Having to quit college as a result without my diploma.
And for most of this year I was doing a bit better again. Had a new girlfriend and everything. And yet my depression wouldn't fully go away. Instead of spending all of 2023 trying to fulfill my dream of becoming a professional writer, I spent so much of it just doing... nothing. Scrolling through Reddit and Twitter because I was too freaking depressed to write.
And I feel like I've done all of this stuff to myself. I could've gone out more when I was in my late teens and early twenties. I could've done those exams. I could've spent the last year writing. These were all things I could've done but I just chose not to do them. Because of my stupid fucking mental health problems. Because of my anxieties and this crushing weight of depression.
I hate myself so much.
I feel like I ruined my life for no reason. For just no reason at all. Just grabbed it and threw it in the garbage.
If my parents hadn't emotionally abused me throughout my childhood I probably wouldn't have developed all of these fucking mental health problems. Then maybe I could've actually had a good life. But I guess that was too much to ask for. I blame myself the most, but I blame them too.
