Privilege. Something someone has… something that could be taken away.
Being loved by someone is a privilege. And so many people take it for granted. Being loved, feeling loved, just knowing that there is someone out there who wants to be with you, wants to hug you, take care of you, wants to be taken care of by you. There’s someone out there whose world revolves around you… who is in awe of you… adores you, admires you… who would stand up for you… and hold your hand in the toughest of times. Knowing there’s someone out there for whom you are not replaceable… cause trust me you’re replaceable to most rest of the world. There’s someone out there to whom your words and actions mean something. And knowing no matter how you behave they still love you, still want to be there for you, still would give an arm and a leg for you. So many people just assume they’re entitled to love when they’re getting it.
I’m sorry but does anyone actually realize that there are people out there who would be grateful to experience even 1% of the love mentioned above? There are people out there who have had to beg for love, love that they deserved…and still never got. People out there who are so depressed from neglect, hurt, and emotional abuse that they literally cry alone and have NO ONE to comfort them. To help them feel better. Has anyone actually sat down and thought about how that would feel?? One loving gesture means the world to someone who has experienced neglect.
Neglect. That feeling is so hurtful I don’t wish it on anyone. I don’t think any neglected person could describe the feeling even if they wanted to. It’s a feeling that can’t be described… and only those who have suffered it would understand how it feels.
So be grateful if someone loves you. Because while maybe you wouldn’t understand the feeling… trust me, Love is a privilege. Something that shouldn’t be taken for granted.
Everyone has their ups and downs in life. Some more so than others. In the cases where life keeps kicking someone while they’re already down… it becomes difficult to keep trudging on. Someone could be the strongest person on the planet but after getting kicked around for so long sometimes people just lose their shit. Is that really so wrong? Is that really their fault? Isn’t that person actually REALLY strong considering how much they managed to survive, how many years upon years they managed to survive before they finally broke down?
Often times I see people labeling these folks as “crazy”. These folks can’t cry cause then they’re crybabies. They can’t be angry cause then they’re bitchy. They can’t talk about it cause no one has time (or care) to listen. Who do they turn to? Who do they talk to? So they bottle it up fearing judgement. Pretending like everything is ok. Pretending to be happy. When the bottle explodes they’re crazy. When they hurt themselves… “what normal person would do that?”. Bullshit. No one knows what degree of thinking, what degree of reasoning, what degree of courage, and what degree of helplessness someone reached before something happened. No one knows (sometimes) what degree of abuse someone tolerated until something happened. Suddenly this person becomes someone no one wants to deal with. Society gossips. Society doesn’t help.
It’s ironic… all it would take is some love and supportiveness to turn said “freak” back into a “normal functioning human”. I know… cause someone held my hand. Continues to hold my hand. But for those who don’t have help… pushing these people away, judging them, labeling them just pushes them deeper into that hole. Is it really that hard to just be there for someone? Someone that once was an extremely strong and wonderful person. Someone with whom life wasn’t fair. Someone who wasn’t privileged enough? Labeling people creates anxiety. It stops people from reaching their true potentials. Stops them from being happy, which in turn stops them from progressing, excelling.
And even when someone is lucky enough to be healing there are good days and bad days. They don’t disappear overnight. You can’t erase what someone went through with a flick of the wrist. Sometimes it’s hormonal. Sometimes it’s Post Traumatic Stress. Sometimes both. Sometimes it’s something else.
There’s nothing wrong with these people. Maybe it’s the world that is wrong. Maybe it’s time the world learned how to be supportive and loving. It’s hard to heal when a cry for help falls on deaf ears. I was lucky. Most are not.
Maybe it’s time the world changed the way mental health is perceived.