I’m Not Sorry For Being Screwed Up

I will no longer apologise for my mental illness

When I first became ill, I didn’t allow myself to believe I had depression. Because I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t have a reason for it. I lived through three silent years of self-harm, accompanied by Bulimia in the second year. Once I managed to tell people, I was always made to apologise for it.

For not having that reason, something that led me to lose so many of my best years. Also for having this difficulty, this burden I am then sharing to them. I have to apologise for people worrying about me, even though I worry about myself too, I’m just as scared of my own mind.

I am tired of saying sorry for something that I don’t control. I am tired of apologising for a mental illness that affects me far more than it does you. I no longer want to say sorry for all the ways you think my mental illness is a bother.

Physical

I will never be treated with my mental illness the same I would as if it were physical. And until we reach that point, I will always be made to apologise for it. Even my depression won’t be taken as seriously unless there is the physical symptom of self harm. That is the world we live in, one where I am made to apologise for a personality disorder while you would never ask the same of someone with Diabetes. Even illnesses of the brain, like Alzheimer's, are taken more seriously than my illness of the mind.

I must apologise for the invisibility of my illness, I must be made to feel like it is inferior to any other issue. We do not acknowledge how much harder it is for a person with a mental illness to reach this space than anyone else. That getting out of bed is harder. That you have to motivate yourself to even shower. That is harder for someone with an ED to train for a marathon than someone without. We’re not allowed to celebrate the extra step they took, as that is somehow unfair to others who didn’t have the weight of it. Why does that take away from your win?

Burden

I am allowed to have my mental illness, as long as it doesn’t burden anyone. I am allowed to suffer, and given the space to, as long as that space does not take from others. If it does, then I am made to apologise for my mental illness.

For example, if I am rubbish at communicating for a while as my depression has me in its grip, then I can’t use that as a reason. If I lash out at someone because of the abandonment fears that accompany my BPD, it is considered wrong of me to include that when discussing it. You’ll say I’m using my mental illness, that I’m excusing myself with it. But it is the reason, it is why I did that, why I’m like this. It is relevant to the discussion, so why can I not help you understand?

People are happy to tell me the damage that my mental illness has inflicted on them. The worry, the stress, the tiptoeing. I don’t want that. But why can I never tell you the damage that you inflict on my mental illness? That you make me walk on eggshells, that you make me feel less inferior, reinstating my issues with self-worth by telling me what a bad friend I am. We become trapped in this cycle, of their difficulty with our mental illness only reinforcing it.

Guilt

Because it will make you feel guilty, and I’m not allowed to do that. I’m not allowed to make you feel bad, even if that isn’t my intention. I don’t want you to feel guilty for being happy in your body and never starving yourself, but I do want you to understand the difficulty in my side. That guilt is like any other form of privilege, to be acknowledged and learned from. Because if you do not have a mental illness, then yes, you have another privilege. And I am glad that you are not ill, but you must recognise that others are. We have an extra barrier to our day that we work through.

Baggage

That’s what my mental illness is to people. It is baggage, it is weight that I drag them down with. It a reason not to be with me, it is something I shouldn’t advertiser too early. My partner is applauded for being with someone with a mental illness, but what about the person who lives through it? Because I’m the one with it, so I deserve the struggle of it, but the innocent bystander does not?

Temporary

I am granted my mental illness as long as it is temporary, because as soon as it extends past that, then I am just difficult. Mental illness is acknowledged, not accepted. Then it is me who is not the problem, and not the thoughts that plague my mind. I can have one depressed day, but living my life with the constant anchor of depression is too much for you. Then I am faking it, or then I don’t want to get better. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I don’t.

Better

Do not apologise for your mental illness, because in many ways it has made you a better person. It has made you empathetic to the struggle of others. You know what it is like to be down, so when you are up you pull others up with you. You know the anxiety of entering a party and not knowing anyone, so your eye always unconsciously searches for them. You know the gift of being alive, and so you will cherish it more than they will. Do not apologise for the good you bring into the world with it, the people you help, the caring nature you apply to friendships

You are the one with the mental illness, and not them. You did not choose for this life because who in their right mind would? Do not be sorry for being screwed up, as you are the one left with the pieces. It affects others, and you can recognise that, and you can work with them for that. But don’t be ashamed for something that you would trade-off in a second.

You should be proud, not sorry. Because you are still here. And that is an incredible accomplishment for anyone who struggles with their mental health or mental illness. You made it another day. Everything you did along the way is a fantastic success.

Don’t say sorry.

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