"A lane to the land of the dead."

Well, as I only have one person from my life outside of Tumblr on here, and she knows everything, I figure I can spill.

The thing I find funniest about PTSD (in a totally ironic sort of funny, not ha ha funny), is how people with PTSD never want to be a bother. We know we’re in pain, that the sleepless nights are eating away at us, that the flashbacks are consuming, and the anger uncontrollable, but we don’t want to admit it to the world. We keep on going with this smile on our face, and telling the outside we’re okay. “I’m fine” is a statement used probably more by the mentally ill than any other population. 

I went to a counselling session recently - it was after a massive fall out with my parents, and almost a year after the event that caused my PTSD. I agreed to go only because I knew it was the only way to convince my parents I really was ill, despite the official doctor’s diagnosis, because unless I was interested in getting help, they weren’t interested.

So I went. And the whole time, even when I started opening up a little, after each burst of crying and then shutting down again, I said “Yeah, well... whatever.” Like it doesn’t matter. Over and over again, trying to dispel the magnifying glass the counsellor was holding over my problems, focusing the light on them and making them burn. 

The thing with counselling is, I want to run away from it. It is one of the most painful experiences that I’ve put myself through, by my own choice.