Waking up, flooded with painful memories once more. Having given all she had, yet robbed. Robbed of all she invested, all that had made her feel worthy.


When something or someone is stolen from me while I’m rendered helpless because of mental ill health, the pain is excruciating. Being hurt in this way must be about the worst because of its gross injustice. It feels as though I’m no longer considered a person of worth, as though I no longer matter, as though I might as well not be there. This happened long ago when I was a young adult, yet innocent. A person close to me stole my boyfriend while I was a patient in a mental hospital. And yet I loved her. And yet it hurt terribly, and it contributed to my disorder.

Another betrayal happened when I was much older, still trusting. After years of respect as a leader, my mental health failed and once again my self-worth was stolen. Pain came as it would to a vulnerable and helpless child. It hurt terribly and it contributed to my illness.

With the sensitivity of a child I have experienced much such pain. Mental illness rendered me worthless in the minds of some, no matter my contributions in the past. The self I had been – and still am – stolen. Rejected as though I no longer had feelings. But I did have feelings – very strong feelings.

What do you do with pain that developed in the past and affects who you become? You can’t make the pain you’ve lived with for so long disappear so easily. At times, emotions come to the surface in uncontrollable fashion and those around you might think you’re wicked. But they only see what you’re displaying on the outside, not recognizing what’s happening inside.

If people could only understand where it all comes from!