What a joke

I live with a personality disorder, but I’ve been working through it for quite a while now; if I weren't such a fragile soul, I’d practically be in full remission by now.
See, having a personality disorder is essentially feeling like the whole world is out to get you. It's different from neuroticism, where people are more focused on their own flaws—you know, those folks who are constantly chasing the next cosmetic procedure or perfect manicure because they feel they have to be better, and even though they blame others when a bad day hits, generally speaking, they think the world is fine and they're just out there hustling to make their mark.

I’ve finally moved past the idea that the world is fundamentally broken. Nowadays, if I had to point to my one singular struggle, it would be shame.

And look, I realize everyone experiences shame. We all carry some little bit of neurosis inside us; even someone who desperately wants a more athletic physique probably feels a sense of shame regarding their current body, though dwelling on that certainly won't help them reach their fitness goals.

In my case, I find myself feeling ashamed of my mental landscape, which can be incredibly delicate. My therapist tells me that there is absolutely no reason to feel ashamed of this, and honestly, that realization is actually my biggest hurdle. Let me reiterate: I don't view my surroundings as the villain anymore, and all that stuff we were told as kids about how we should be embarrassed by our behavior... well, that doesn't really matter now. As my doctor puts it, certain things might have contributed to my condition back in the day, but that was then, and it doesn't dictate my present (you can try to argue otherwise, of course, but...)

People certainly tried to hammer that sense of shame into me growing up, but I don't let it touch me anymore. The thing that actually eats at me is the shame I felt for being so easily affected. I feel ashamed that I was so sensitive, and then I feel an extra layer of shame for being ashamed of that sensitivity in the first place. When other people noticed how fragile I was, they usually viewed it with total neutrality, or maybe even a hint of envy. But I? I wanted to be the tough one, the person everyone looked up to. I wasted so much precious energy on things that didn't matter.

There was even a time when I overdosed, all because of this overwhelming sense of shame... I did something foolish and I just wanted to hit the reset button, to somehow kill that feeling of embarrassment once and for all.

But the thing is, if you fight against it, it only grows. I could really use some support from you all as I try to learn how to embrace my own shame.

Maybe—and it's highly likely—just as I used to think I was the only one hurting while everyone else lived perfectly, perhaps everyone carries shame in their own way. Even when I admit it, I can't help but think that others might just be better at managing their shame than I am.

It’s mostly that I feel ashamed in front of myself. 🍿 Not so much in front of others, actually. It feels a bit backwards, doesn't it? Being more self-conscious than social-conscious. I don't quite know how to explain it, but it paralyzes me; the shame keeps me stuck, yet once I actually start doing something, that feeling tends to fade away.

Don’t you dare feel ashamed of how fragile your spirit might feel right now.
It’s a universal truth, really—the most delicate things in this world often end up being the most precious.
I always think about that Japanese art of kintsugi. It’s all about taking those broken pieces and mending them with gold. Instead of hiding the cracks, you highlight them. You take every setback, every break, and use it as a way to grow, to learn, and eventually, to become a little wiser.
🙂

I find myself dealing with these sudden gaps in my memory quite often; for instance, someone brought up a conversation about gluing vases together recently, and I honestly couldn't recall who said it or when it even happened. It’s one of those things that triggers this deep sense of embarrassment in me, especially when I'm by myself. When I'm out in a group, though, I just own it—I'll simply say, "I can't remember," or "My brain isn't cooperating today."

Attention deficits, these little memory voids... My doctor insists they are merely symptoms of the underlying issue.

But during our last appointment, I confessed to him how much it actually shames me, yet he maintains there's absolutely no reason to feel that way.

There was also a woman following the protocol who mentioned her brain feels like it's running in slow motion, asking me to be patient with her. It seems these experiences are actually quite "normal" within this context.

I suppose we all need to find a way to coexist with these things—the symptoms, the physical aches, the sheer frustration of it all. It would be wonderful if we could just laugh it off, but you can't exactly force humor, and leaning into sarcasm or cynicism feels hollow since it doesn't actually fix a single thing.

Thanks, 🙂

Honestly, memory gaps are just a byproduct of living entirely inside your own head instead of actually being present in the world. Maybe you aren't remembering things because, frankly, you aren't really listening when they happen.
When you’re constantly preoccupied with your own internal monologue, trying to focus on anything else feels like an uphill battle.
I’ve always been drawn to the whole wabi-sabi philosophy—that idea of finding beauty in the imperfect.
It’s about embracing your own flaws. I mean, if we were all flawless, what would there even be to laugh at? 🙂
At the end of the day, you've got to have a sense of humor and stop taking everything so incredibly seriously. Not yourself, not anyone else. If everything were perfect, humor wouldn't even exist. Perfection is just plain boring.