Dear Future Lovers,/My declaration of my “dating Bill of Rights for the mentally ill”
There are many things I could start and maybe should disclose, but there’s also a lot I want you to know nothing about. There’s a lot of me that I’d like to chain and lock away the key to. And I have the right to disclose and not disclose as I see fit. Not out of shame per say, but because I don’t want to see that change in the way you view me. I don’t want to be seen as something to take care of, as something damaged and fragile, as someone indecisive and insecure. There are also a lot I cannot always shield you from that you will undoubtedly come to see as common place (IE, emotional breakdowns, self harm, emotional distance, depression, panic attacks, flashbacks, my codependent relationship with my cat, and me popping needed prescribed pills). So, tread lightly and be prepared to respect and establish boundaries and understandings of your own. While I’m asserting my needs right now, this is a two-way street, and your concerns, needs, and feelings are also important.
As for me, my “baggage” is exactly that—MINE. Meaning, this is my cross to bear, my inner workings to understand, and I need not your help or pity to get me through it. I can, and I will work through this. I will be “okay” one day, but I’m not asking you to make me okay nor am I asking you to wait until I’m “okay”. The truth of the matter is that if you wait and wait for that, I won’t want to be with you because a person who is hoping and praying for something other than what and where I am right now is wasting their time. My working on being “okay” will a life long struggle. I won’t ever stop being a work in progress! Yes, of course perhaps later in a few months, a few years, a few eons, I will no longer need medication or need as regular therapy because I will have gained and solidified my coping skills, but I’m never going to be 100% “okay”. I’m likely always going to be teetering back and forth without ever telling anyone about it because not being “okay” is also okay with me. Not being at 100% sometimes is exactly what I need. Struggling with my “baggage” and working through “it” is and will continue to be a large portion of my life. My “recovery” has no deadline. Therefore, understand, that I am as I am and offer nothing more nor nothing less.
If you can actually jell with all that, I’m asking you to butt out, and let me be me. Let me do what I need to do for me, and maybe we can catch some boba some other time. Don’t try to absorb me into your loving embrace and “make all my demons go away”. That’s not how this works. I don’t need a hand to hold and a mind to remind me of my sanity; I need someone who can remind me that I am more than my troubles. I need someone who sees more than just my story and can suit whatever my current likings are on that given mindset, time, and environment.
The story of my body may be wrecked with poison, thorns, and hate, but I am not. I am and am not my body. So, trust me when I ask you to separate the two in order to view me in the here and now before you, not as some “broken”, “injured beyond repair”, “inspirational”, “surreal”, “awe inspiring”, and “complicated” story, but as a quirky, impulsive, creative, curious, and optimistic individual. Hold my gaze for just one minute and tell me you see more than where and what my body has been through, then maybe you’re ready to be a part of my life or maybe you’re just stubborn and reckless.
Consistently questioning your judgment,
Yours truly.
life as an agoraphobe 