About

Hi! This is my little slice of the internet! I'm not 100% sure why I decided I wanted to make an official blog- maybe it's born of my want to help people and make even the slightest change, maybe it's because my hand hurts when I'm trying to write journal entries. Who knows? Not me!

My name is Shayla and I'm 28 years old. I was diagnosed with depression when I was a young teen and as I grew older, I had anxiety, borderline personality disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder added to the roster. While my mental health has been a huge source of problems in my life, I've also experienced numerous traumatic events and hardships- and I continue to work through them to this day.

Whether you're here to understand mental health better, here to remind yourself that you're not alone in your struggles or any reason in-between: welcome.

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Where Does Guilt Go?

Before I became who I am now I was someone unrecognizable. I was cold, cruel, petty and vindictive. Sometimes I hurt people for fun. I know many people would dispute my claims, but the thing is that I had it perfectly wrapped up in kind, warm and giving packaging. I could hide the monster behind a smile and a laugh. Those whom I didn't want to see the darkness didn't, and those I did suffered. I set up people for hurt, I was a bully, a liar, a cheat... you name it. I was ugly. But I'm not that person anymore. Not if I can help it, anyways. At the age of 29, I carry the heavy burden of guilt. Guilt of the terrible things I've done to people throughout my life- especially my younger life- and it drags behind me everywhere I go. It's always there. So, I wonder: where does guilt go? Does it ever go anywhere or do we simply learn to live with it? I thought apologizing to those I hurt would be the answer. That fictional closure for both sides where everyone is healed and cleansed. I did get some positive responses, though some were chilly and some didn't reply, at all. And that's okay! A response isn't always necessary, and I didn't expect any. I just wanted them to know that I was truly sorry for the things I did, and that the problem was me and my unchecked mental health, never them. I didn't expect forgiveness. Maybe that's selfish. I don't know. Maybe they were all better off not hearing from me and recalling shitty times. Maybe the last thing any of them needed was hearing from me, holding my expanse of guilt in my arms. I don't know. All I do know is that the guilt is hurting me. It's killing me. It's pushed me to try to literally kill it away. Where do you stand with the burden on your shoulders? Where does guilt go? Where do I go?

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