Ramblings of a mentally ill drama queen.
On validating and honoring my deeply complex emotions after a night of writing it all out.
“I like that line about the ‘mentally ill drama queen’ Honor her. Celebrate her. Redefine her.” — Mary
I hate how “jaded” and “bitter” have been turned into terms used to shame victims of some kind of harm for daring to openly hurt.
Confession:
I am so deeply jaded, bitter, and resentful because of all that I’ve experienced and lost during the pandemic. This feels weird to say at times because sometimes my first instinct is to admonish myself for complaining too much because of others’ suffering. “People lost their lives, their homes.. everything. Stop being a drama queen.” But, I’ve gotten better at that now that I’ve set the intention to not invalidate my struggle, even if it seems miniscule in comparison to someone else’s. And so here I am admitting that the weight of everything that I have lost during these last three years feels so heavy to carry around. It feels like being expected to finish a three-legged marathon in 25 minutes with an anxious monkey on my back. Dramatic, right? Each day feels like I wake up thinking “Okay, what’s going to happen today that will be my thirteenth reason?”
Last night, I shared a deeply personal piece with my writing group about how the loss in the form of relationships, platonic and romantic, has affected me. I have been working through figuring out how to make relationships feel better for me. To not feel like I am constantly working at something doomed to be hurtful and fail and that’s not a healthy way to look at relationships at all. It seems I have a bad habit of giving too many chances. Allowing hurt to build, insecurity and resentment to fester, and then only getting the strength to untether once I’ve been intensely hurt or lost.
If I’m being honest, and I am, I’m really bitter about it.
bitter - angry, hurt, or resentful because of one's bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment.
Emphasis on the unjust treatment.
One of the prompts for last night’s writing group was “drama queen” and so I snarkily ended a piece referring to myself as a “mentally ill drama queen.” Which was a specific reference to a former friend saying our friendship ended because of my mental illness and nothing about their mistreatment of me throughout our friendship. After we share, the group is given an opportunity to give feedback. This feedback is almost always praising how our words made someone feel a technique used within the piece or just encouragement to keep writing and to share it beyond the group. After I shared, a woman named Mary said something to the tune of “I like that ‘mentally ill drama queen'.’ Honor her. Celebrate her. Redefine her.” I began to jot down notes as she continued talking, admittedly missing the latter half of her feedback, because the ideas started forming instantly.
[Sidebar: This is why I love my writing community. It is always a safe and welcome environment to be painfully vulnerable, tears and all. Inspiration sparks as soon as any of my fellow writers share feedback or their own pieces.]
I took Ms. Mary’s words very literally as an exclusive call to action.
Honor her me.
Celebrate her me.
Redefine her me.
🌞
It’s worth noting that I am not actually a drama queen. I loathe (my own) drama. And if you bring it to me, you are swiftly cut off. And by swiftly I mean after I’ve given you a few chances and lost myself a bit.
Not to mention that being jaded and/or bitter (genuine expressions of anger and/or disappointment) are within the right of any individual, however, and for some strange turn of events, it is weaponized against minority women. In actuality, pretending that one isn't jaded and/or bitter is equal to self-harm, and implies that self-care isn't for minority women. I don't know about you ladies, but this "catch 22" BS is just that, pure BS. Great posting, by the way.
I feel you, Sis. Life has been good and life has been hard. I try so hard to focus on the good with my Pollyanna spirit, while my sons who are autistic, tend to be the antithesis of my Pollyannaness. I am constantly fighting for my happiness and peace.
My son (age 24) told me the other day that people have the right to have suicidal ideation. This world is too much for some with the economic crisis, global warming, black people being hunted and killed. He says, that it doesn’t mean you will necessarily act on the s.i.
I was kind of blown away by his comments. I simply told him he has the right to feel that way. I asked him to consider writing about it.
Thank you for writing. Thank you for still being here. I know it’s hard. ♥️