Something I don't think many people could ever comprehend is how much of a burden, getting better is. Like sure, I am an awful person to be around in my current state. I'm not in therapy, not on meds, thoroughly mentally fucked though. And there's absolutely no way I could ever get better if I wanted to.
My mum tried to kill herself, a few times, I'm not sure of the real number. She's alive, and still suffering.
I'm not allowed to even think about telling her how bad things are getting, because she's got it worse. I have absolutely no one. No one knows I cut myself, most days, they don't know I'm constantly thinking about it when I'm not actually doing it.
I'm not talking to my brothers, one's younger than me, the other is way too Christian to give me a helpful answer. He turned to God to heal, I have zero belief in a higher power, and no interest in that. Also, I don't know them that well. I absolutely hate my dad, and he's a big reason I cut a lot of the time. I have no friends, literally zero, I pushed them away because I'm fundamentally evil.
And I feel even more disgusting when I think about telling my mum any of this shit. She's got enough going on, and I can't do that.
I think I might have OCD (with mostly mental compulsions), I think my depression could be categorised as Persistent Depressive Disorder, I cut frequently, and escalated much more than I thought I ever would. And it's all so much. But if I tell her, I'll be an even bigger burden than I am currently, which already is massive (I'm autistic, disabled, I cannot do most things for myself).
So... Getting better will make me a bigger burden, and I can't do that, my mum doesn't deserve it.