I feel as though this was written about me; perhaps you will too. Well worth a read and Zoe’s blog is well worth a follow if you aren’t doing so already.
I tend to downplay my issues and act more positive than I am. I can’t be sick, so I pretend I’m not. I’ve pretended for so long that I’ve fooled myself into believing that perhaps my problem is a faulty thought process. If I can play the part of the woman I am beyond the weird things in my head then I’m obviously okay, right?
It was easy to delude myself in those thoughts — a jumbled mess of words spat on me by others, like friends or family. Only people who end up in psychiatric wards are truly sick. They have serious problems. I’ve never been hospitalized. I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve been able to live thus far. I’m fine. I can do this thing called life. I don’t need help. I don’t need medication.
I’m not sick.
I’m just a bit strange.
Artistic people are strange.
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