There were three distinctive times I remember others being dismissive and clearly not understanding of what I was going through.
“You feeling sorry for yourself”
One time (and this one was hurtful), during one of my lowest points, a good friend came to visit me, and he said that ‘I should get my a** outta bed’, ‘stop playing the a**’, and that ‘nothing was wrong with me other than me feeling sorry for myself’. And with that, he distanced himself from me. I felt abandoned on top of everything else.
Another time, when I was just a month or two into my medication regime, my sister saw me taking my med and she looked at me and said, “You still taking that? Girl you’re fine, you don’t need that tablet still.”
Assuming that if I see a mental health professional, I must be “mad”
The third occasion that I recall is when I mentioned to my mother that I had an appointment to see either the psychiatrist or the counselor, and her comment to me was, “Why you still going to see them crazy people doctors? You good, you not mad.”
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