Day 1

As I begin writing this, I think about how it would be so appropriate to start such a journal exactly on New Year’s Day, as it would be like turning over a new page, a fresh start. And then I realized that my mind once again wants to play the perfectionism trap, where the current sense of well-being is sacrificed for an imagined future “ideal” scenario. Who said that November 1st can’t be my New Year?

Maybe this is a way of sharing an experience, maybe it’s a way to vent my emotions or simply to send my thoughts and feelings out into the universe. A thought often sneaks into my head – that no one will read this, that no one cares about my opinion or experience. Perhaps it’s better to stay silent. But precisely because of that, I will face this familiar impulse and continue writing, and most importantly – doing it publicly. Maybe no one will read this, and that’s okay, but perhaps someone will stumble upon it by chance, someone who needed to read it, who feels the same way and thinks they are alone and misunderstood.

Right now, it’s very relevant to talk about mental health, share personal experiences, and oppose the stereotypes and myths rooted in society that surround it. I am very glad that in my interactions with the healthcare system, I sense that the professionals working in mental and emotional health are incredibly understanding, empathetic, and knowledgeable, doing everything possible to dispel these deeply ingrained prejudices, trauma-based ideas, and societal stereotypes.

I have decided to share my experience. Although I work in a field closely related to healthcare and always emphasize the importance of combating societal stigmas, educating oneself, seeking help, and being understanding and accepting of oneself without shame or guilt, I have always held higher standards for myself than for others, even regarding mental health and emotional well-being.
Throughout my life, I have suffered and “punished” myself for not being “normal,” afraid to face the truth and accept my flaws and illnesses, ignoring my mind’s cries for self-acceptance and forgiveness through constant shame, guilt, and the need to appear perfect and in control outwardly. Because that is what others’ perceptions of me have always been more important than my well-being.
At the same time, I hurried to save the world, care for everyone in need, and be empathetic and understanding of all shortcomings and human weaknesses, while I punished myself for every mistake and looked down on my vulnerabilities, refusing to “complain” or reveal how I truly felt. For years, I lived in my mental hell, allowing myself to be used by those who found it advantageous, and forbidding myself to speak out or fight back, thinking I was correct and obedient.
I used societal stereotypes about mental health as a weapon against myself, even criticizing and denying them outwardly. “You’re just lazy, happiness is just a matter of choice and will, just get yourself together, don’t be so helpless, you’re just seeking attention, stop pretending, you don’t want everyone to find out you’re sick, no one will love you if you don’t comply and follow their wishes, don’t hurt others with your problems.” These are just a few dialogues I kept repeating to myself daily, accepting my suffering without showing the slightest sign of how I truly felt – in panic and fear of death, living through every second.

Finally, I have decided to untangle myself – no matter how frightening it is, because nothing provides greater comfort than familiar suffering that creates the illusion of control.

And if you are reading this, I encourage you to do a little exercise. Wrap yourself in your arms, embrace yourself tightly, close your eyes, and take a deep breath in and out. You are loved.

                                                From personal archive.