I'm petrified of people shouting, to the point it can trigger flashbacks, but I'm also one of those people who can't stand silence. I blame Ginge; she emulates the noise of her childhood (5 sisters, both parents, all in a 3 bed council house) with the tele or music or whatever, and I seem to truly be her daughter on this one. Silence somehow is connected in my head with the idea of being bland and dull, and so, by my ridiculous logic and extension, being invisible, and that's horrible. I need noise to confirm my existence, to keep me from floating off or just generally being redundant. I'm so scared of being redundant. I'm scared of being invisible.
For years, the only way to stop being invisible has been to accept banter and labels around my mental health. It's better to own your nicknames and stuff. I think because of that, I've always found the idea of being 'the mental one' almost kind of flattering. Flattering that people have noticed me, that I'm real and I have an identity. It's not the greatest of labels, but hey, no publicity is bad publicity. I've also spent time as 'the anorexic' and that's a label that I hate. I'm optimistic enough to think that some of my conditions-will be managed better and I'll be able to cope better, but I also know that there's no cure. No vaccination against crazy, would you believe? Recognising that is one thing. I think I've got my head around that, and I have faith enough in myself to think that this will be my last lengthy admission. I don't mind the mental label, potentially offensive as it is, because I know my mental health will never be 100%. What I can't accept though, is the idea of being 'the anorexic' for the rest of my life. This cannot be my life. I don't do anything by halves, and I'll make sure that applies to my recovery.
I realise how attention seeker-y I sound, despite that not really being what I meant, and in a way this is all quite hard to admit to. It's not all bad. I'm not all bad, I swear. Just give me some noise and it's cool.