The Problem With Sharing The Problem

Let me just clear this up.

I just don’t want to bother people with my problems anymore.

I saw this on Tumblr and maybe it’s not so bad that other people feel the same way I do.

It’s not that I don’t trust other people enough to tell them about my problems; in fact, I trust my friends with my life and everything that comes along with my depression package, it’s just that when I tell them about my problems too much and too often, I get scared that they may find my problems shallow and repetitive even when they aren’t and it almost kills me every day, and that’s one of the things I fear most.

I have always been this way ever since I discovered the existence of problems. I try to solve them by myself as much as I can so I wouldn’t have to bother anybody, and when I feel like I finally need a hand, I ask for it. Most of the time though, I just don’t know when to admit that I can’t handle something by myself and I really do need to ask for some help. I don’t think this is a matter of pride involving my abilities; it’s just the fact that I don’t want anyone to feel like I’m such a burden. I don’t want to bother other people. Yes, I find comfort in their company, but it’s just hard to be that kind of person.

I actually want to get rid of this quality and try to find more comfort in telling others how I really feel to lessen the weight on my shoulders. So that they may also help me in carrying my baggage the way they’ve always been carrying theirs just fine.

Though I suppose this also may have something to do with the way I see my mental and emotional strength, because other people depend on me too. Perhaps it’s a fear that I don’t want to show them any hints of weakness, that I may somehow be obsessed with the idea of being an epitaph of mental strength that this drives me not to tell anyone my problems and try to solve them all by myself, even if it costs me my sanity.

But like I said, whatever reason I have for being so secretive when it comes to my inner conflicts, if given the chance, the only thing I want is to get rid of it; get rid of the habit. Because I have always been this way towards everybody, there are no exceptions, and now that I am still this way, I’m afraid it’s been bad enough that I just might lose the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and I can’t afford that. I have no idea what might happen to me or what I might do if I lose it. The mental and emotional strife of the present is more than enough for me to handle; I don’t know what’s going to happen to me if things got any worse than they already are.

I hope that never happens.

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