Sometimes I wonder if I am even a good person. Looking back, I count so many people who probably really really hate me and it makes me question what have I done to bring good to this world. I keep losing my purpose there. But then I ponder more and question myself: Do I want good for this world or do I just wanna be liked by others? And then I think maybe both are good. Maybe there is no such thing as altruism and whatever good I wish to do for this world is to only get appreciation or recognition for it. But no.
I don't want appreciation anymore. If anything, I haven't even gotten the appreciation where it was warranted. If anything, people haven't even recognised it was me.
I keep thinking of the words people tell me. I keep thinking about how people judge me because of my profession when people are actually supposed to do the exact opposite. I keep thinking that mental health professionals are worthy of so much respect but so less compassion. Because everyone thinks they are the people who are only supposed to be compassionate towards others. Nobody talks about how they are harassed, nobody is talking about their exhaustion. Nobody talks about their compensation because in the kind of capitalist world we live in, we are merely just keeping a bunch of employees sane enough to carry out their tasks. Employees who are doing the real work.
I keep thinking of that one time I was expected to do beyond what I was even capable of, just because I am in the "mental health field". Sometimes, I wish I was just normal. Sometimes I wish I was as dysfunctional as those boomers who reject the existence of their mental health issue and live in the denial of being "healthy" because sadness is not real.
I think about the time my friend told me how things got worse after she shared her deepest sorrows with me. And it breaks my heart because the truth is I am trying so hard, you know? I am trying so hard to be nice to others and to myself and I am running out. I am running out of all empathy and compassion. My profession has exhausted the empathy out of me and now I show it only if I get bucks for it. Oh, capitalism, what have you done!
I keep thinking of the dude who abandoned me and now lives in the belief that I am the villain of his story because I didn't reciprocate his feelings when he felt for me. I keep thinking about how people just don't see what they do to others in all the good and the bad ways. I keep thinking of how I have spent countless nights literally crying myself to sleep, every day for a different reason. Sometimes it would be the existential crisis of why I am so underpaid in my profession and sometimes it would be about this guy who totally neglected me at one point because apparently, he was going through a tough time.
Sometimes my friends tell me that I am not a good enough friend because I don't keep in touch or I don't respond to them the way I am supposed to respond when they are undergoing grief. The truth is: I don't fucking know and I can't. Sometimes, this exhausted part of me is okay with being a horrible human being. But some nights, when there's less work during my night shift and I have got no one to talk to, I think of all the ways I have been a horrible friend or a human and I cry. I wish I had been better. But the sad part is even the idea exhausts me.
Sometimes I think that I am losing who I am and I am not even acknowledging it anymore because my life is just moving through these horizons of whatnot. I am in a happy relationship but I keep preoccupying myself with these thoughts about how imperfect I am or the guilt of being too much to my partner. And I don't know how to get rid of them.
I keep thinking of all the people in my past who possibly hate me and I don't even know if I want their forgiveness because some rational part of me believes I never not wished well for all these people. Sometimes, I don't know what love is anymore. But then I look at my partner and a certain kind of anxiety creeps in. The anxiety of losing him, under any circumstance, the anxiety of living a life without him. Because I know I can't. I know my body won't be able to take it.
I keep thinking of all these thoughts and I keep wishing for satisfaction in life. I know I can't be happy in life but oh god, do I want to be satisfied.
So, am I a good person or not, I don't know.
I will never know.