Another day of confusion. How do I get my life back together? How do I find myself again? I went through my robotic morning of getting up, washing my hair, trying to look normal – whatever that is supposed to mean.

I am on a destructive path and I know it, and I am trying desperately to come back from it. I know what I am supposed to do. I know that I am supposed to keep myself on an even keel – keep a schedule, get enough sleep, exercise. But I don’t want to do any of it. I don’t have the energy for it. I just want to sit on the couch and stare at the walls or fall into an endless sleep.

I’ve thought about cutting but I haven’t yet. I have to figure out where I can do it that it looks like an “accident” when my boyfriend comes to visit. I spend nights Googling how much of the medication I’ve been prescribed that I can take to never wake up again. This is my brain. This is my disease.

And no one sees it.

That is the problem. If I had a broken leg, a broken arm, sympathy would come pouring out of the mouths of everyone I encounter. But my illness is in my mind, hidden from view so for most people it does not exist. Because everyone wants you to be “normal”.

I don’t want this life. I don’t want this disease. I don’t want to feel the weight of it, and have the knowledge that it will be with me forever. Up and down, the roller coaster. If I were manic right now, I’d be on top of the world, posting about how amazing life is. I wish, desperately, that I was. I wish anything other than where my brain is stuck – in a deep, dark hole. And what I hate the most is not knowing how long I will have to live in Hades.

It’s always a challenge when I apply for jobs. Technically, I  am protected by the ADA, as my disease falls into the disability category. But I have never checked that box. There is such a stigma around mental illness that to admit to it feels shameful. I should  be stronger, I shouldn’t let this disease take over my body, my mind. But it does. It always wins.

The only thing that could save me right now is a manic episode. Where I feel I can do anything. Where I feel I am valuable. Where I believe I can make a difference in this world, to give me a reason for my existence. But I can’t crawl out of this hole and I don’t know how long I am going to have to live here, desperately holding on, until one morning I wake up, hear the morning birds chirping and can look outside and see the beauty of life again.

I want it so badly and yet I am afraid it will never manifest itself again.

That is always my fear. I just wonder how long I can take this pain, how long I can wait for my synapses to spike, in order to understand why I exist.

© Sorrow & Kindness


One thought on “Falling

  1. We, all of us apparently sane people really cannot imagine what incredible people like you go through. Just like we cannot imagine how bewildering all of it is for you, you cannot imagine how strong you really are in people-like-me’s eyes. How you cope up, how you go through every moment, how you fight against the dark demonic urges, how wonderful it is! I pray and hope that you have someone you can lean against and talk to about how chaotic it is in your head. You really are an amazing person and one day will come when you will be just fine, I hope.


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