I sometimes wonder why I’m always in the wrong. From the why I feel, my thoughts, my beliefs, my needs, just about anything that has to do with me.

Today I just feel so inadequate and if I even dare try to express that why someone things always go one or two ways. One (typically family) would point how there’s no need for such things. How I should stop feeling that because other people have it so much worse. And that’s something they’ve told me my whole life about just about every emotion I ever had. They even would tell me how I’m lying and I don’t really feel that.

The second route (typically friends and professors) would point out all the good I’m doing and so such a feeling isn’t necessary. Or being told I should look at things from the other person perspective. They try to tell me all the things I’ve done and accomplished, which makes them not understand or see where I’m coming from.

And when I do try to explain or express myself with the overly “positive” people it’s like I’m not being heard. Sometimes it just feels like no matter where I go my feelings aren’t valid enough to be heard. It’s either I’m in the wrong because I shouldn’t feel that way. Or I’m in the wrong because I’m either have so much going for me or I’m not thinking about the other person.

Through these experiences constantly happening to me it just reinforces that I’m better off alone. Nobody would ever actually hear me out and just listen. Even if it’s just to vent without judgement. It’s why I blog and journal. This is the only way I’m able to express myself without the drawbacks of speaking to a person in front of me.

At least when I blog I have the chance to hopefully showcase to others who might feel like I do that they’re not alone. I highly value making sure nobody ever feels the way I do. I don’t want someone else to feel their emotions aren’t valid. I don’t want someone else to feel so alone that it’s better off not being around.

I struggle speaking with my therapist about these things because it always makes me feel uncomfortable trying to discuss something so personal. Especially when I’m accustom to how the system works. For goodness sake, I have to do 2 inquiries in our session. One at the beginning to give an overview of how I been doing this week, and another one at the end of the session to determine if our session went well. It feels so wrong. Especially because a lot of of the inquiry questions are so vague that it’s difficult to understand. Along with trying to figure out if I’m doing it right. Or the fact I don’t want to hurt their feelings.

I’m such a mess. Even when I try to be more vulnerable and activity try to get help in therapy, I still fall into the same cycle. I been in therapy my whole life to where I know how to answer the same questions to where I feel like I’m lying. For goodness sake, in 2017 into 2018 I spoke the script so perfectly that I was able to get medication to commit suicide. That’s how well I knew how to work the system.

So, now, when I’m actively trying to get help, I’m still following the same pattern. Speak enough about an issue that is bothering. Most of the time I come off as peepy and generally happy. Which is typically my “I’m outside” persona. Been told my whole existence that I shouldn’t show my emotions that it’s just easy to fake being ok when I’m not alone.

But when I do drop the mask for a session my therapist and/or case manager always seem taken aback. So, it’s hard for me to not seem ok around them because I don’t like those looks. It’s the same look of “something is wrong with me” and it just hurts so much. Yet, I rather that than the absolute disgust expression my family would give me my whole life for even daring to look upset.

As I’m writing this I’m in between crying and trying not to cry. I’m most trying not to cry so I can continue writing. But also, sometimes I get the start of a cry and it just automatically stops. I feel so miserable but I don’t want to make it someone else’s problem.

It’s very difficult to give off the impression I’m ok , when really I’m trying my hardest just to breathe for until the next minute. That’s something I’ve always done. The only thing keeping me going all these years is reminding myself I just have to keep just a little longer. Repeating to myself if I make it to the next minute I’m doing good enough. I hate how the only reason I stood alive for 31 years was the fact I kept telling myself if I make it to the next day it’ll be ok.

I hate that, not because it worked, but because it hurts. It hurts how that’s my only motivation to stay alive, nothing else. It hurts that I’m the only one cares about me enough to care that I’m still around. My family won’t give a damn if I suddenly killed myself. They’ll care about the financial cost of my actions. They’ll care about how my actions affect them. But they won’t care how I came to that conclusion. They won’t mourn losing me because I wasn’t worthy of being loved when I was alive.

It hurts knowing that I’m only good for when people need something of me. And if I try to express how that affects me then I’m seen as selfish and in the wrong. Nobody has ever considered me when making their decisions. Yet I always considered everyone else before I make decisions.

I’m selfish if I don’t think about how my actions affect someone else. I’m selfish if making things about myself when trying to voice my emotions. I’m selfish and greedy for even daring to do anything for myself without considering other people. But when everyone else does it they aren’t selfish or heartless. So why am I always in the wrong? What have I done to deserve this?

Why does it even matter? I should just give up. It’s not like people actually care. No matter how hard I try I’ll never be worthy enough to be considered. I’ll never stop being a second thought because I’ll never stop trying to be someone I wish I had. Because at the end of the day it’s so hard to put my needs first when all I do is consider other people. It’s so hard to ask for help when someone else needs it and deserves it more than.

I’ll never be worthy enough because I’m not even worthy to myself. As much as I’m trying to fight off the temptation of just making everyone life so much easier by ending my own, it’s just so hard.