I buried it and thought I had gotten over, but now it's resurfacing and I have to deal with it. And I just want to lash out at the people who judged me so harshly when I was sick. My own family, specifically my mom and my son, treated me like dirt before the heart attack. They thought I was just being lazy. Didn't matter that I was desperately ill and kept telling them so. I knew for years before the event that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Years (notice that is plural) before. But, no one would listen. Not even the doctors. Oh, you have a history of depression so you're just depressed or overreacting or whatever. My house was always spotless, dinner was made, laundry was done, etc, etc, etc, but for some reason my mother and my son were able to ignore that and decide that I had just become lazy and treat me accordingly. My son told me that I was, "lazy, selfish and irresponsible". My mom backed him up saying that he was just frustrated by the house being a mess all the time. I. Couldn't. Do. It. I *hated* the house being a mess. I was a neat freak. I couldn't stand it. But, I was too sick to do anything about it. 12 years ago I had a kidney infection that almost went septic. I refused to be admitted to the hospital because I didn't have insurance. The ER doctor told me that he would send me home, but if I couldn't keep the medications down (hadn't kept anything down for days), I would have to go back. I asked my mom to come up and help me. She was angry. She came up, but she was mad. Like I just had a cold and was being a baby. I was so sick that I couldn't stand long enough to take a shower. 6 years ago when I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital, my mom was angry with me. Asked what I was going to do to get myself out of this predicament, like I had pulled a stunt that went too far. I was trying to save my life because I knew if I didn't go in, I would kill myself. I was in a psychotic depression, convinced everyone around me was plotting and working against me. I worked circles around people at work. Got a 10% raise my first year because of my productivity. As my health declined and I missed more work and couldn't keep up, people started talking. Passing judgement. Making snide comments. I'm sure they thought I didn't know, but it was impossible not to know. Not a single person expressed any kind of concern over what might be going on. I was visibly ill. Instead of expressing concern, I'd get comments that I should wear more makeup because I was so pale. I'm not perfect. But, I am compassionate. If someone is acting differently, I assume there's a reason and ask if there is anything I can do or if everything is ok. I'm concerned. I really don't do the victim thing. But, I can't help feeling like for some reason I'm not allowed to be sick. That I don't get a pass for serious illness. That I'm just a bad person, a lazy person, a selfish person. I have to be perfect and pleasing and do what everyone expects. And now I'm crying. I thought I had let this go. But, I really want to confront all of these people and ask them now what they think about judging someone without all the facts. Ask them how they can sleep at night after hurting someone that has cared and shown so much concern for them. Ask them if they're so perfect that they are able to throw stones. Ask them why when I needed them the most, they weren't there. And one of them emails me and tells me I should pray. What a hypocrite. She was the worst of the bunch, but she went to church every Sunday so that made her a "good" Christian. She should try reading the Book of Job. And then she should look in the mirror. Ok. Done being a victim. I had to get that out. I think I'm going to have to address this with my therapist tomorrow. Might take a few sessions. I really thought I had let this go. I obviously haven't and I think it's why I haven't been able to relax and am so stressed. The thing with my Mom a couple weeks ago brought it all up. Thanks for listening.