A drama queen, or justified?

I always get a sense, probably justified, that people don't believe me about alot of things. I always get a feeling that my friends think I'm just whiny, bitchy, lazy and overreact about trivial things, rather than, you know, having severe mental problems like general anxiety disorder and a strong case of depression that has lasted the past four years. Only a small handful of them know I spent a week in the behavior health ward of Flagstaff Medical Center during freshman year (not one of the people who visited me then are friends to me now). I have told other people, but I don't think they believe me, mainly because, as I do with everything, I throw a humorous light to it by saying "It was fun. They had puzzles." (Both statements of which ARE true. Although I suppose it wasn't fun so much as enjoyable, to be able to relax and, for the most part, focus on me).

I wish I could explain to my friends just how difficult it is for me to deal with day-to-day living, particularly with such limited support. The only true support I have is Cory, and that is a lot of shit to put on one person, particularly a person who has medical problems of his own to deal with. I don't talk to my parents about much of anything. I talk to my older brother once a year. I have friends here in Flagstaff I see only once a year.

I just wonder if anything would change if people knew the truth. Would people think of me different if I told them how many times Freshman year (and after) I would go driving somewhere and be tempted to crash my car into a telephone pole at 60mph? Would people suddenly understand me better if I explained the reason why I still haven't gotten over no one remembering my birthday freshman year (it was the first time I ever slit my wrists), or why I was so messed up during Relay for Life the next week (no one noticed the cuts). Or would they just alienate me more? My friend Eric believes cutters just do it for attention - if that were true, my therapist would know. He does not. The only person who does is Cory, and I was only able to tell him in a long winded note a year later, when he was like "Why the hell do you care so much about your birthday?" He understood. I don't know if anyone else would.

People don't believe me at work either. Last year, I was either sick or injured so often, I don't think there was a single pay period where I didn't have to call in to say I couldn't come in. Not one of those was a lie - I was always genuinely sick, or my ankle was messed up, or I was suffering from heat exhaustion from the Rennaissance Festival. I'm sure people are like "Hey, we come in sick! You should deal with it too." The thing was, my first YEAR with them, I called in sick maybe once. I came in sick every other time. No one noticed. No one cared. I was not considered a better worker for doing so - I was, and still am, invisible. I just don't care anymore.

I went to work the day after my uncle died. I was out of it and half-crying the whole time. I said "I'm fine" when anyone asked. I still don't think anyone knows - most likely, everyone thought I was just being stupid. Seems to be their mentality over there.

I just don't understand how I can be so alone. How everyone can just ignore me, you know? I've always believed in a world full of compassion and love and understanding, on some level. I guess that mentality just doesn't work in college, where it's all about fun, beer, sex, drugs, and lastly homework. Friends with issues just don't fit the bill unless they're somehow really entertaining about it... I guess I'm not.