And you know why? No one who knows me would believe it was written by me. And I’d never want them to know about it either. Those that know me think I’m happy. That I smile all the time. Am fun. Laid back. Never stressed. A social butterfly, extremely outgoing. Always. So. Fucking. Happy. At work, every phone call sounds like I’m talking to an old friend. Bad news never gets me down. My workload never overwhelms me. Bad days? They don’t happen to me. I wake up positive and bubbly and stay that way until bed time. A great mom who loves her girls. A fiercely independent woman who never looks for love.
They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I have the most extreme case of social anxiety that forces me to take a shot or down a quick glass of wine before I go anywhere, even just to dinner with a friend. What are we supposed to talk about? I don’t have anything to say. What if they ask about this, or that, or if I can’t be witty and entertaining. What the hell am I supposed to talk about ::gulp::?!
They’d say I was lying if I told them I second guess everything I do. EVERYTHING. They would call my bluff if I told them I can’t bear to speak to anyone in my house anymore. Or that I feel incapable of being loved. Or that I feel like a terrible mom. Or that I’ve slept with more men than they could fathom just trying to find my replacement father-figure. Or that I hate the weekends because it amplifies how alone I feel. Or that I have a million journals that I’ve started and stopped bc I can’t actually tell anyone how I feel about life? How I would rather hide under my blanket than to actually take an active role in anything?
I’m not suicidal. Not even close. Am I depressed? Probably. I have a journal entry from just a couple months ago that would make this one sound like it was written by a stranger. So I know this is temporary. I also know this will probably happen again.
Bottom line is, no one knows about this blog. I hope they never do. I never want to be seen as weak. And wow, do I sound pathetic right now.
Things I Shouldn't Say... but will anyway 
You truly don’t sound pathetic, but I’m a bipolar Mum and I know about hiding from the outside world. Most people that meet me through the school or work or to do with the kids or my man’s work all think I’m bubbly and friendly but that i don’t suffer fools well. None of them have any idea that on the inside i’m a quivering mess, none of them know about my insane drug history or the men and women i’ve slept with just to distract myself, or any of the things that are actually going on with me. But online i am myself, i write whatever i feel and think and share experiences with others going through similar things. It makes me feel so much better i can’t begin. its ok to reach out
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Thanks for commiserating! I struggle with a lot of the things you mention, past drug use, promiscuity, just plain boredom. Most of the time I feel pretty calm and ok… Normal if you will. All it really takes is a couple of life’s blows to throw me back into my introverted and hidden depression. At what point in your life do you suppose “they” diagnose you as crazy?!
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Ha, I was 30 when I was diagnosed, have since been hospitalized a couple of times which is genuine balls out crazy, hospital crazy. It gave me great material for writing but it’s such a bleak shithole. It sounds like you have repressed some stuff, i could be wrong but it can often happen than a person sits at a higher level of emotion for a long time, not feeling particularly depressed or what not but then bam, something small or big happens and everything goes to shit in an instant. See I feel “normal” when i’m what *they* call manic, but my manic isn’t like Homeland, i just get really motivated and a bit weird and usually a bit drug friendly. Yet the world sees me as this working Mum who bakes for the school carnival and does play dates and tupperware parties.
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I would love to live in this undiagnosed state of “sometimes I get stressed out”. I have been on antidepressants (makes me flatline emotionally) and honestly they just aren’t for me. I’m drug-free and only drink when it’s around. I am generally a very positive person, especially to everyone around me. To myself, I’m a big jerk. I don’t eat well, exercise at all, or speak to myself very kindly. Crazy thing is, I’m an attractive mom of two who is naturally in shape. I don’t have body issues at all. My issues are with being and feeling loved, which unfortunately affects my ability to love others the way I know I should! It’s the craziest state of non-crazy I’ve ever witnessed. Somehow relationships just “don’t work out” and I’m always left wondering what I did wrong. It’s maddening really.
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To be fair most antidepressants on their own wont make a huge difference, and they usually take a wee while to work by which point most people think they’re totally useless. You’re obviously not “crazy” but then neither am i, i’m bipolar 2 not 1 so i get no psychosis. Have their been any events in your life that have possibly caused trauma without you realizing it? It sounds like you’re stuck in a circle of behaviours, you go through the same thing and have the same result without knowing why it keeps happening? There are always reasons for these things, half the battle is figuring it out…
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Wow! Some of what you said hit home for me too. I fake life a lot, I go around with a pretend smile on my face. It gets very exhausting.
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It’s probably the most exhausting thing I’ve ever had to do. I often wish I could be one of those people who wears my emotions on my sleeve, allows others to see my vulnerabilities, but nope! I must maintain perfect composure at all times!
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