My interesting attempt at self-help

I use the word ‘interesting’, because it was anything but. It was more of a hideous, guilt-ridden attempt at hiding what I know I couldn’t. When I was diagnosed with anxiety (and later, depression), I came out of the doctors and told my parents that everything was fine. Because, hey. Why not bottle everything up? That’s sure to solve all the problems!
I felt so guilty that I couldn’t stand to tell anyone. I was convinced they’d think I was selfish, ungrateful. In reality, anxiety is an illness. There’s nothing selfish about it.
When I was four, my parents bought me a dress like the one Ariel wore in The Little Mermaid. But it was the wrong dress. I wanted the cute little bra and fishtail outfit (I was quite a precocious four year old). My mum and dad bought me her wedding dress. I was devastated! I was so upset, and I remember feeling bad about so upset even then. Such a little thing, and it had absolutely no bearing on the rest of my life. But even now, at twenty, I still feel guilty over it.
My point is, one of the many disadvantages of anxiety is the guilt. It’s pointless and pathetic, but it’s sometimes overwhelmingly difficult to deal with.
And that’s why I felt so awful about my diagnosis. I still haven’t told my parents about the depression, because every time I mention I feel like an awful person.
And my second point? I’m not an awful person.


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