I am SAD

What to say about me?

Let's start by saying this is my secret account. I was 17 when I started this book, 15 when I learned that I had a mental illness and I am now 20 and I'm a she. No one that I know knows about the account. I don't want my friends and family to know that I started writing. Just the thought of it... You're probably wondering why, right?

I have Social Anxiety Disorder... I think... I'm not sure... I'm 300% sure but I just don't want to be.

I've tested myself on like all the tests I could find on the internet. They say I do have SAD but I should still see a specialist. However, if I do see a specialist, everyone will find out. I don't want anyone to find out, and at the same to time, I do. If they find out, they'll think differently of me. And if they don't find out, I won't get the help - that at least I think - I need.

Confusing, huh?

You see, I get anxious, embarrassed and nervous every time someone, anyone comes near me. Every time they touch me. Talk to me. Look at me. Smile at me. Laugh at me. I dread their thoughts, their words, and actions. I dread my thoughts, my words, and actions. I might embarrass myself and they might embarrass me. Then, I feel like it's getting hotter and hotter. My body is in global warming. It burns from the inside to the out. I blush. I start sweating a lot. My heart races and my breath hitches. I smile awkwardly because that's the only thing I can do. I fake a laugh, a giggle, a chuckle. I can't move or go anywhere, because they'll all look at me as I leave. I'll draw attention to myself. They'll think I'm weird, I'm a creep... Which they probably already do.

So I, they, we just say that I'm shy... Which doesn't even come close to being like SAD.

I always downgrade myself. I'm ugly. Fat. I don't have enough womanly curves. I speak like a baby. I look like a baby. When I wear a really nice dress, I feel ridiculous, not because I look really nice, but because people usually see me as a cute child and not as the woman I'm becoming. I'm not social enough. Everyone hates me. My family doesn't really love me. People think I'm weird.

No one comes near me. No one approaches me or talks to me unless they want something like a pen, or unless they want to know where my siblings are. I can't talk to them or approach them because I can't. I want to but I can't. Something is blocking me. I want to speak but my words fade out as my mouth slightly opens. I want to hug my close friends but my arms just feel numb.

I'm awkward. Bizarre. Weird. A creep.

I isolate myself from the world in fear of encountering a social situation I don't want to encounter, in fear of feeling all these undesired feelings I feel. But I can't run away from it. I feel them anyway. I'm trapped. It's like a viscous circle. I run away from a social situation I dread, but I don't want to feel alone and hated. I want to be their friends. So I talk to them, and bam! The burning and the heat comes back. I blush and sweat and smile awkwardly. I hide again.

I want help. I need help, but I don't want to get it, to find it.

It's killing me, maybe. I don't know what to do. I can't work at school properly and I have my mock exams at the end of the year. I can't express what I feel. I don't even know what social Anxiety Disorder is called in my language: I'm bilingual. I speak English and another language. I can't tell you, someone might find out who I am.

It's funny how I feel like I don't know myself anymore. I learnt that I had SAD in December 2015. My family claims to know me but do they really? My mum said that a mother must know what is going on in their child's mind but she doesn't know what's going on in mine.

And now... Now I'm going into depression. All the feeling that first come when being depressed, I have. I feel helpless. My life is uncontrollable. It's slipping away bit by bit and I can't do anything about it.

I have Social Anxiety and I'm depressed and I don't know what to do.

Learning I had SAD was hard and terrifying. Knowing I have depression too is killing me.

So this is me... A part of me. The part of me no one knows about. The part of me no one will - probably - ever know about. The part of me that is scared, sad, lonely, and so many other things.

The other part of me? You don't know. They only know that part of me. The part of me that smiles all the time, that is shy, crazy, that likes to laugh and that loves to love.

That's me and no one actually knows me well enough to know both parts of me, to know that I'm breaking down, to know that my soul, my heart and my body is breaking up into pieces. But that's Ok, because I'll stay strong and be brave until someone does, and if that takes me a lifetime, then so be it.