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  • Writer's pictureIndy Goodwin

I'm Shitty Actually, Thanks For Asking

TW: Self esteem issues, suicide, feelings of worthlessness

Why is it that when we're struggling, the hardest thing in the world is to ask for help? Yes, I know a problem shared is a problem halved, I've felt the effects of this trite but true saying before. That doesn't make it any easier to go "Hey. I'm drowning. Could use some assistance."

And then, to make matters worse, when you see your friends being hyper independent you can't help but be frustrated by the fact that they won't take the most painfully obvious solution. As if that's not something you struggle with on a daily basis. You're going "just ask for help!" in your head, while you carefully turn your face away from your own personal shitshow, that would just end if you let it.

That's the problem with being fundamentally embarrassed to be alive. You feel like any need you have, let alone any want you have, is an inconvenience. Really, everyone would just be far better off if you just quietly died in a corner somewhere. Just blinked out of existence so you could stop bringing a 'Weird and Bad' vibe to the club.

When you read my words here, they sound batshit, don't they? How could she think that about herself? Doesn't she know her own value? No, reader. No I do not. I couldn't think about one thing I like about myself right now. If I wasn't embarrassed by my continued existence I could ask my closest friend, but that would be attention seeking, and they would think less of me for bothering them. They would never think that of me, just to be clear, but I am so afraid they would.

Your own thoughts can get out of hand in isolation. I'm too close to the problem. Maybe you see something different, reader. Maybe you can see that all of this is just... a meltdown with a different hat on. I'm still learning how to navigate my autism after my diagnosis in January and it is difficult. It is so difficult.

Asking for help isn't shameful. Needing attention isn't shameful. Struggling with mental illness isn't shameful. I hate that we've been conditioned to think so. I hate that even after years of therapy and reading and working on myself, I still lapse into complete inertia. Unable to concentrate on anything other than the burning hatred I feel for myself for not fitting into the neurotypical cookie cutter. For being someone who likes to champion the different, the other path, I sure have a lot of hatred for myself for these values.

The important thing to remember here is that recovery isn't linear. For all the times you've dragged yourself through the fire, there will be times when you can feel joy again, and it'll feel worth it. You just have to keep going through it. I know that's horrible and terrible but you can do it.

It'll be worth it for all the concerts you haven't been to yet, the movies you haven't seen yet, the friends you haven't met yet. The love you may not have explored yet. And there is so much love out there. Love of your friends, love of your partner, love of your family, even the love of a stranger like me. Because I do love you. If people can hate with reckless abandon I can love with the same ferocity, the same intensity.

I love you. I hope you're having the best day you possibly can. I'm proud of you. Keep going.

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