I was happy to rediscover this writing that I did back in the day, because I think it shows how my heart and soul have always ached to help people.
I remember thinking that, even if I couldn’t be happy, I wanted so badly to help others be happy. I wanted to help not only people with mental illness, but anyone and everyone — my heart yearns to help others be happy.
I know what it’s like to feel sad, hopeless, not want to live, and I know what it’s like to have terrible thoughts about yourself. And I don’t want anyone to feel the way I do.
There have been times when I’m driving along, in a grocery store, or just out and about, when I see an elderly person walking on the sidewalk, or out shopping. It will sometimes literally make me cry (I feel embarrassed even saying this). Maybe not like gushing tears, but I sometimes tear up, as I worry about them and hope so badly that they are happy.
When I’ve been with my mom, siblings, or friends and this has happened, I will sadly ask, “Are they happy?” They smile, and reassure me that, they don’t know for certain, but that that individual is probably happy. Maybe they enjoy walking along by themselves; perhaps they like the exercise and the warmth of the sun on their face. Maybe they love going to the store, shopping, and being out and about.
Now, this doesn’t only happen when I see elderly people. Basically every day, wherever I am, I see people and I worry about them. I hope they are happy. I hope they have friends and family that love them, etc., etc… I want so, so badly to know that they are happy. It’s so hard to explain. But, this actually plays a big role in how bad my anxiety is every day. It can be all-consuming to be so worried about everyone you see each day.
There have been times where I’ve been out on a date or just out and about, a person will walk by, and the guy will make a rude remark about their weight, their physical features, the way they are dressed, etc. I’m sure they are trying to be funny, but the moment a person makes any sort of comment like that, I am immediately turned-off & my heart hurts. 😦
There are many people who have a sense of humor that consists of bringing others down in different ways. And , even if that person is not present — a complete stranger, or someone that they know would never know what they said — that is the furthest thing from funny. I do not find bringing others down for your own entertainment as “humor”.
My senior year of high school I was basically a loner, which I was actually mostly fine with. My best friend wasn’t there anymore, and I have social anxiety up the wazoo, so during lunch I would try to “serve” others; I would try to look outside myself and help others who are having their own daily battles. This was beyond out of my comfort zone. I felt shy and embarrassed of the way I looked; I’ve always felt very ugly, fat, been self-conscious of my nose, and other specific things. (P.s. This is a huge contributor to my hardcore social anxiety).
But, I basically forced myself to approach kids that looked shy, were sitting alone at lunch or in class, etc. I don’t know how to explain it, but I would literally just force myself to start walking toward them. It was seriously like I felt a physical pull toward them. After I took those first few steps, I just made myself follow through. I forced myself to smile, forced myself to pretend I was happy. Being kind came effortlessly, naturally, and made me feel good.
That’s honestly one of the few things I have always loved about myself. I think I am a very kind person. (Ughhh, I am so sorry. I feel arrogant for even saying things like that about myself).
Perhaps what no one knew is how stinking hard it was for me to approach them, and how shy and out of my comfort zone that was. But I made some good friends that way and I hope I made a difference.
I promise I’m not saying all this to try to prove to you all that I’m some incredible person or something. It’s just interesting to me; the whole psychological part of it and whatnot. I think that, perhaps because of the way I have felt about myself for literally as long as I can remember, I am almost overly-aware of other people and their emotions.
It’s as if this is a blessing and a curse. Sometimes it’s almost as if my compassion for people becomes a fault. It gets to the point of me spending an immense amount of time concerned about others, feeling extremely anxious about it, and making it hard for me to cope.
However, I’m honestly terrified when I think of the kind of person I would be without going through what I have. I worry that if I wasn’t born with the mental illnesses & sadness that I have, that I would be a cruel person (at least on some level).
So, even though it is the most difficult thing ever to feel the way that I do day in and day out, I am so happy and grateful for what I have learned over my life thus far; compassion, sensitivity, love, and more.
I love you all. And please know that I am always here for you. ❤
Here’s one of my writings from years ago:
Don’t abuse me.
I have feelings.
Just like you.
They have feelings.
Stop hurting them.
Let them live.
Let them be happy.
I will help them.
I will save them.
Make the pain stop.
I am real.
I wish I was not.