Same here — and I continue to work through this with certain family members. It’s so shocking for some of them to interact with me as something other than a doormat that they question my sanity!
It doesn’t help that they all know that I do indeed take medication for my mental health. One person emailed my doctor to ask for help on my behalf because (apparently) I was not being myself. A doctor in the family even called me to write the prescription herself!
While there are times when a person with undiagnosed or inadequately treated mental illness may require external intervention, that hasn’t been the case for me in over 10 years. I was just being myself. I just wasn’t being a doormat.
For the people with the dirty shoes, losing their favorite doormat — and so suddenly (in their view) — well, it was a hard pill for them to swallow.
Thankfully, I had the frame of mind to reject any new medications, and thankfully, my doctor ultimately sided with me after seeking my perspective.
But why do I have to keep explaining myself? I’m telling myself it’s a logical consequence of a lifetime of passive existance.
Passive April no longer exists.
A lot of people really miss her.