Shame

A week ago I found myself explaining to my therapist how I wanted to end my life, how I was so desperate for my mind to shut off and how I was ready to end it all, in that moment I felt distressed.

A week ago I found myself ringing a close friend asking him to collect me from the local health centre because I had to go to hospital and couldn’t trust myself to be left alone, in that moment I felt ashamed.

A week ago I found myself ringing my brother in law asking him to bring me to hospital, where I would need to go in order to stay alive, in that moment I felt guilty.

A week ago I found myself ringing work to explain that I was being admitted to hospital for my own safety due to my mental health, in that moment I felt embarrassed.

A week ago I found myself sitting on a mental health inpatient unit faced with colleagues from my work in pre hospital care working on the unit, in that moment I felt panic.

A week ago I found myself fighting to keep myself alive, I found myself doing what ever I could to get through the day, in that moment I felt useless.

A week ago I found myself desperate for help, I found myself lost, confused and broken. I found myself having accepted death as my only option, I found myself ready to end it all and in that moment I felt like I didn’t deserve to live, I felt like I didn’t deserve help, I felt pure shame.

I have always been open and honest when it comes to my mental health; in a way it makes it easier for me to deal with what goes on inside my head on a daily basis. My honesty allows me to feel like my suffering isn’t in vain, and has always given me a bit of hope, positivity and a reason to keep on fighting so when I found myself overcome with feelings of shame and guilt last week I was taken aback, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to challenge those feelings.

It’s amazing how feelings are so situational. If you asked me to talk about my mental health with colleagues form my previous job, or to wear a t-shirt with my arms on show I would, it wouldn’t phase me in the slightest but ask me to do it now, now its not the same. Six months ago I would have engaged in conversation with anybody who would listen but now I have become selective. My current job know the bare minimum, they have seen me show emotions but not to the extent I would have in the past. Why? Because I feel ashamed, I’m ashamed of who I am, of how my BPD makes me act, makes me interpret things and how it has caused me to loose control over my own mind.

Where has the shame come from? Why am I filled with confusing emotions? Why am I suddenly afraid of judgments? Why do I care so much? Why can I no longer accept that my mental health challenges are the same as physical health challenges?  Why am I hiding who I am? Why am I preventing people from seeing me from who I am? Why am I preventing them from seeing the strength I have to fight my challenges on a daily basis? Why have I suddenly become so ashamed of myself?


Maybe I need time, maybe I need time to change me thinking about myself, to begin to accept my challenges more. Maybe I need to just let the shame be there, let it be there and wait it out until it passes. In life we often have to choose our battles, right now I’m not sure if these feelings of shame are worth battling or maybe letting them run their course will enable me to be better in the future and to fight harder to keep them at bay or maybe right now I need to be patient and simply encourage understanding of myself without being too hard on myself.

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