Suffer in Silence

It was a busy morning. I did nails then hopped onto my NAMI support group. I really enjoy my group. One place you can feel semi normal. People don't know how to deal with people like me. They're polite enough to ask how you are but don't have the capability of knowing what its like to not be able to "think happy thoughts". I can try but it inevitably leads to a negative thought. The term "fight or flight" is what comes to mind when I think about what I've gotten from my PTSD, my medication resistant depression or hell, even my anxiety. Always in my head. Always thinking of the worst possible outcome, no matter how unlikely the scenario is. No wonder I'm so fucking tired all of the time, I'm running marathons in my head all day. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like it seems to have this week. A text from my dad. I just have no idea how to respoond. And my mother. Why? Just, fucking why? After all of these years. Shes done terrible things over the years. These people don't know me. They don't know my fucking struggle or how much I've needed, literally the tinest scrap of concern. Of human decency, let alone familial support. I've needed love. I've died over the years. Losing every little piece of myself.