Are You Confused Why I Cut You Out Of My Life?

I’m a people pleaser. It’s hard for me to say no to others. I believe in the good in people. When I make friends I’m hoping it’s for life, and if I call you family that means you matter so much to me I couldn’t stand to live without you. Or at least I used to. See, ever since I’ve been in a mental crisis (recovering now, and moving forward with my future) I can’t help but slice people out of my life; even if that person is very close to me before. I’ve started putting myself and my mental health first and it’s creating waves.

I’m a person living with a mental illness that has handicapped a good portion of my life. As I’ve come to accept my diagnosis and everything about my illness I’ve also come to learn that not all my friends are very understanding (or willing to understand) exactly what it means. They don’t understand the depression, the napping, the self loathing. They don’t understand the mania, the overspending, the risky behaviors. They don’t understand the anxiety, the fear of the public, the isolation. They’ll never understand. That’s probably because they aren’t suffering the same way I am. You don’t have to suffer to be my friend, but you do have to have some compassion for my mental illness and know I’m sick a lot of the time. Friends and family have to be flexible.

There’s also people who say off collar remarks about my mental health. Some of my former friends would call me lazy, when that’s simply not the truth. Some people would say I’m crazy, when I don’t feel shame for my mental illness. The worst (in my opinion) are the people who blatantly say I don’t have a mental illness. People will come up with a million excuses, and you should use them as an excuse out of your life.

If I’ve learned anything from having a mental illness it’s that I need to make myself a priority. Even if this means cutting other people off. Sometimes people aren’t a good match for you overall. It doesn’t make them a bad person (and it doesn’t make you one either). It just means it’s not a good match. People who can’t comprehend or accept my mental illness aren’t a good fit for me. I may not have a lot of friends, but that’s okay. My grandfather always said that if you can count all your real friends on one hand you’re the luckiest person alive. I’m feeling pretty lucky these days.