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Chess-loving atheist. Mental health writer and poet. I like The Beatles, gothic rock and metal. Living with chronic delusional disorder. ...

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Friendship is a precious gift – maybe, too precious?

Just as I’m writing this, I have my ear-plugs on, not to hear any disturbing sounds from the outside. I need to be alone and to think better about me and others. I know what’s the right way to be. You just decide whether a person is good for you, if your interests coincide, if you have much in common, whether one fits your expectations, if one has a right character to be your friend. Instead of it I’m bothered that people stop talking to me. Worried if I did anything wrong. Promising myself that next time I’ll behave differently, maybe tell more jokes or more interesting stories. Getting obsessed to know whether I made a mistake, where it went wrong. Telling myself next time I won’t say a word about my illness. Never to cancel friends’ meetings because of psychosis. Never to say a word about me interested in psychiatry. Never to talk too much. Never to talk too little. Never to send interesting articles to friends – maybe, I just annoyed them. Never to express my life-views – I might have sounded a bore. Never, never, never.


I don’t really know how to behave to make people talk to me. They seem to only pretend to be friends. I have about five trusted friends, the rest are drifting away. Most people can’t accept me for who I am. They might start to induce me to give up meds. They might not want to see I’m sick. They might meet you and talk to you, then decide to be silent. They might block you from the start or they might abuse or troll you, in the worst case. I don’t find any empathy, when a person stops to talk and I’m left guilty, not realizing what went wrong. I feel sick and I need a friend’s shoulder, love and care. I need it more than normal people, but they treat me worse than those who are stable and mentally strong.


But I’m not strong. On my bad days I’m sure everyone hates me. They think I can only bring problems into their lives. And I’m sensitive. I often feel sympathy for people, while they shun me. I always think, maybe next time with a different person I won’t talk about my illness. But then it happens that people stop talking too. They tell me I’m insincere, that I’m telling lies, that I’m talking too little about myself. They start to suspect something. And they stop communicating to me too. They can’t understand that I had to invent a better life story to attract them. They stop talking anyway, whether I tell lies, or keep silent about myself, or tell the truth. It was the biggest problem for me, when I started to want to communicate, but was denied. It’s been only four years since I began to make friends. And all the more it hurts, that people deny my friendship, when it started to mean something for me. I value a good-hearted conversation and exchanging facts. I can be a good friend. But most of my acquaintances don’t value that. They need healthy friends. They need no extra worry.


Is friendship really a gift too precious for them and I’m not worthy? But how is it going to be, if they don’t accept me for who I am or have no empathy for me? How could they even start to be my friends, if the only thing they care about is if I don’t take antipsychotics?


In vain I ask myself, where’s their humanity and intelligence. They only care if I’m not dangerous for them. Then I start exploring my character and look for my flaws. I judge myself for any little negative thoughts, as if no one else has them except me. I start to think of myself as a potential murderer and a bad person, getting self-stigmatized. I doubt myself. I try to think what wrong I’ve done in life, that some peope want to drive me to suicide or talk among themselves “she didn’t hang herself yet”.


I see I’m not guilty and my life was quite happy and cheerful before the illness. People liked me for intelligence. Now it doesn’t matter. Now they dislike me for being sick. All my endeavours got lost, as I see people value only mental health. They turn away from me, but I feel every contempt, every hateful grin or remark. I’m not without feelings.


There’s no logical way out of it. Just to stop making new friends and stick to old ones. In times of distress I need trusted people to talk to. And making new friends brings so much disappointment and negative outlet, that I got very tired of it.

Daily Routine - ON or OFF
Stigma and hate

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