I was writing a friend about how what happened in my worst traumas sticks with me. The trauma itself obviously does but what the results of your gasping for something factor in as well. I found out after an incident where I thought my dad was going to kill me when I was 16 that the image of God I had built in my head was completely AWOL. When things are at their absolute worst what is is goes right out the window, only what is actually experienced in the moment matters. This is hard for people who haven’t suffered deeply to get their head around. Religion didn’t help me when I needed it to then, it didn’t when I had eye problems in 2002, and it doesn’t now even though it is shoved down my throat.
One of the things those selling suffering tell you is it will turn you into more of an everyman. Maybe it’s true for some and especially for those who get past the gatekeepers of being published (and the act of being published in and of itself means you almost certainly watered down your experience to appease someone who suffered less than you) but it isn’t for me. The simple answer is that negative symptoms have eaten a lot of parts of myself away. And while that explains some of it it doesn’t explain all of it. People are whole in a single way but are broken in manifold ways. You’d think because of skyrocketing depression rates that people would be able to be attuned to each others worlds but a lot of the time it isn’t the case. People are islands experiencing their own individual hells and the modern psychology sanctioned hyper individualism (exacerbated by COVID) isn’t helping things any. Part of mitigating depression is just being with people and having common experiences with them (so you have things to talk and joke about). Otherwise our lives remain fragmented and balkanized. My experiences are so alien to even my closest friends and family that a lot of times I’m just talking past them. Losing friends means I live in my head that much more and this drives me further and further away from people. Obviously a good portion of the reason people scorn me is I don’t have the “life gems” like good jobs, nice houses, fancy degrees, nice cars, etc.. but that doesn’t explain all of it.
One of the things I have noticed recently is people don’t like it when you call them a liar. They especially don’t like it when you let your life speak and it calls them a liar. Just having a visible disability means that every interaction with the abled world is seen as an incursion and every interaction makes people question their false notion that people have innate worth as they judge me as worthless.