I am in trouble. I have started returning to my old demons, and they are taking me over. I am frightened. I do not want to go through this again. I do not want to end up in rehab, I do not want to lose my job, I want to get rid of these shackles that are wrapping themselves around me and be able to live fully again.
But every day, it comes knocking. Some mornings I need a boost when I wake up, just to be able to face the day. Some days I grab a few after work, just to get through the isolation that has become my life. It makes me feel horrible. Sick, nauseous. I can feel it invading my bones, my blood, my organs again. It is taking me over and I don’t know how to get beyond it.
I feel like a fraud. I come to work and try to act normal but am so paranoid that everyone knows what I am doing. Having a nip or two just to get me through the day. But can they smell it? Do they see it in my eyes?
I don’t want this life. I don’t want this addiction. But I don’t know how to conquer it. It has followed me for over a decade, always in the background, whispering to me that just a little bit will help me through this life. And I listen to it. I believe it. Because it is easier to listen, to give in, than to face the reality of what is in front of me.
I can’t face reality anymore. I feel insane. I feel alone, isolated, I am an anomaly that does not fit in anywhere. I have always felt this way. I do not fit in. Perhaps that is why I have moved so much, traveled so much through my years on this earth. To try and find a place that fits. Where I fit. But I have yet to find my Shangri-La, the place where I can find peace, solace – where the world does not interfere with the craziness in my head.
Sadly, I have only found that in a locked ward. Or on the Island. But I can not longer go to the Island to find peace. He is too present, and ever place I look I see him, and my chest heaves and the tears fall as if they will never stop – a waterfall of emotion. And I hate feeling emotions.
Unless it is mania. I can deal with the mania. I adore the mania. But it has been missing for too long from my life, and I fear it will never return. And if it does not, then what is the point? What is the point of slogging through this life wrapped in a blanket of darkness and sorrow, when I know there is another side. However, until it shows up, one morning when I awake, there is no point to what I do.
Life will continue. The organization I work for will continue. The people I know will go on with their lives, just as they did when he died. Yet, I was caught in a strong spider web on that horrid day, and I am still trying to fight my way out of the trap. Most days, lately, I no longer care if I live or die. The question is how? Will it be long and painful and will I destroy all the relationships I have created, or will I just ingest a whole bottle of a drug I have been prescribed and be found weeks later…
There will be sadness – this I know. I do not wish to hurt those I love. But most days I feel like my existence causes them more harm than good. So, if I leave this plane, this world, how much would it affect anyone, other than myself? Because I do not know what the other side holds, and I am terrified of that.
© Sorrow & Kindness