Everything seems like it is in slow motion, days go by but you still feel the same. They say time heals all wounds but with what I have been feeling it’s almost like it’s gotten worse.
Strangers walk past you but all you can do is just watch the hour glass go by, almost like you can’t reach out for help or even the simplest of communication. That everything has you under lock and key, as much as you would want to go out on Friday night and hangout with your friends and not be alone like most weekends, it’s like you can’t. It’s frustrating, wanting to be something more then what you are now but not having the energy or willpower to be anything else because the darkness of Mental Illness has you wrapped around it’s devilish finger.
Days go by and it feels like weeks but nothing seems to be different, wake up in the same bed, staring at the same ceiling contemplating if getting up is even worth it. The alarm blaring in my ears reminding me I still have to live a life I didn’t even want to live in the first place, something about being forced to live a life that I didn’t even want anymore almost felt like a prison within the walls of my skull. I was trapped in an everyday routine that I couldn’t change even if I wanted too. I wanted to be nonexistent, I wanted to be with the angles that are so called to roam the sky.
I didn’t understand why I felt the way I did, I tried so hard to put pieces together of why out of all my family that I got chosen to be the one to live with this devil underneath my skin, the constant ache in my heart that doesn’t seem leave, even after the nights of screaming and crying pleading for it to be over and to set me free. Nothing, all I ever got was nothing.
Maybe I was destined to be this, a human with sorrow pumping through my veins. Blinding me from everything other then darkness and pain, and if that’s how it was going to be then I didn’t want to be here anymore.
The pain became so real I convinced myself that I needed to hurt myself, I needed a punishment for having a brain that was so abnormal. If all my brain wanted was pain then I would give it pain, I sat on the bathroom floor with my shaver from the shower a tool that I had years ago that simply shaved the hair I had in unwanted places, that society told wasn’t a good thing to have. Holding that object in my hand snapping the part that held the blades so four shiny blades fell onto the floor in front of me and I stood there in awh, this is what needed to happen isn’t it?
The feeling of the first time I put a blade onto my skin is unforgettable, a feeling and sensation I will never be able to escape from. The moment it pressed it against my thigh I held my breathe in shock with what I was actually doing, after the shock passed a feeling of relief was sent through my body, the sorrow eased. I looked down at the area that I just sliced open, blood fell down my thigh and the feeling almost was relaxing. I took in a breathe not wanting this to end, I didn’t even feel the pain of the gash any longer.
The day after was rough, I wore my usual leggings and sweatshirt trying to mask the sadness that the night before overwhelmed me. Keeping to myself. But when friends would come to sit on my lap it made me cringe, the pain was now there and it’s all I could feel. No one knew and if this didn’t get it away then I don’t know what would. I tried to act normal and that it was all just a joke, but funny isn’t the look they had on there face and I quickly changed the subject not wanting to deal with the fact that someone might have the suspicion what was really going on in my world.
This ache followed me everywhere, soon enough my grades were down the drain and the days became slower then usual and the nights spent wide awake even though I was exhausted. The nights were filled with nightmares and the days were filled with bags underneath my eyes and the heaviness of the grief I felt knowing what I do to my body, and ENJOY DOING.
I quit sports, I dropped out of all the things I once found happiness in and I wasn’t in control of my life anymore. Depression had me in there fingers and they loved it, knowing it’s sucking every ounce of joy I had left, all the energy I used to have now vanished with despair. I fell apart, my family was pushed to the sides and my friends were no longer a thought in my mind and what replaced them was suicide.
The voices I heard are nothing I could compare anything too, it took me and pushed me farther down this hole. I was stuck, terrified. All I wanted was love, family, and someone to hold me and tell it was going to be okay.
This is something I know I will have to live with everyday of my life and I think I have learned to accept that, as much as I would like to be what they call “normal” I know I never will be. Because my life is like a time bomb, one wrong move and I will explode, the triggers have become easier to control and the thoughts have eased. But I am still followed by what used to control me, waiting for me to give in again. In the shower I see the blades on the wall and all I can do is turn the other way because I won’t the urges control me like once before.
Some things won’t be understood about Mental Illness, the victims may never know why they feel the things they feel or why it is happening to them. But I figured out why it happened to me, and it’s to help others who felt the way I felt. It’s the path that was chosen for me and I am thankful it did, my passion is Psychology and I will pursue my dreams and be the person that my kids will look up to one day and be like, “Damn, that is my mother! And she’s badass!”
Because… Well, I kicked all of my diagnosis asses.