Though I come across as someone with very little worry, I can assure you, worrying makes up a large part of my nature.
Imagine that someone you care about has had their phone die whilst out and about. Now, most people would just wait until they’re home and brush it off as the person being busy, but in my Bipolar mind I immediately jump to panic mode. I will assume they have been in a car accident, or anything along the lines of the worst case scenario.
In my general time, I am often wondering if I am good enough. If I am capable. Tossing and turning over what ifs.
These are my internal worries. Due to me living with these types of thoughts my entire life, I have learnt to (predominantly) keep them at bay. I do have these thoughts every minute, but I try my best to rationalise them to the best of my ability, and recognise that they are just a thought caused by my nature and my illness. Sometimes they slip out and people think differently of me, which hurts, because this is who I am and who I have always been. But it’s not like me to fret over not being liked, of all things, so I get over that quite quickly and very easily.
Patience wearing thin,
sick of the let downs and of every other fucking thing.
it’s back with a vengeance and in my chest I can feel it burning.
I might just flip, might just quit,
say ‘leave me the fuck alone’ to all of you and ‘shut the fuck up’ to all your bullshit.
It’s okay to feel as though you are finished with life, with people and with trying – for short periods of time. But do not allow the negativity in your world or your poor headspace to dictate whether or not you will continue with these things, because they’re awfully important in order to feel happiness. And though it can feel like happiness is nothing but a far-fetched idea at times, it’s so important to keep chasing it.
If you don’t actively work to feel happy, you will never feel it. You can’t sit on your ass and hope for good feelings because it simply doesn’t work that way.
Everything is a choice. Everything is just a matter of perspective. And you can choose to shift your perspective and seek the emotions you truly deserve, or you can wait, wallow and achieve nothing but a negative outlook.
I always wondered why happiness eluded me for so long. I thought to myself, how can others be so oblivious to everything, so sickeningly unaware of the pain in life? How could they simply get by living in a state that I had never once felt?
I asked myself these questions and others of the like for so many years, for as long as I can remember.
I guess I was spending too much time focusing on how other people could be happy and I couldn’t, and not focusing enough on shifting my perspective as I went along for the ride.
But one day, it shifted. This was not a small shift in perspective – this was a kick in the ass from my own damn self, an uproar within me. This was a wake up call, pure and simple.
I’ve been wasting my time. Too many years spent negative, and for what? What does that really accomplish, that sort of negativity? I guess the change in perspective taught me that positivity is the only way that you’re going to get through the shit storm that is life with mental illnesses. And if you happen to be armed with a positive, open mind, you can beat anything.
For the first time she was breathing in every single one of life’s glorious, beautiful opportunities. And with each breath she realised what she had been missing out on when it felt as though she was choking.
There once was a girl so scared and weak.She dreamt of death, of horror and lived in a world in which no one could hear her speak.
Ever so frightened she took the world on head first, she knew it could blow up in her face, but still, she didn’t expect the worst.
“Things will work out, things will be fine.”
She said she just needed a little more time.
Shouted and fought with all her will, she kept her hopes high and took every god damned prescribed pill.
She bided her time and forged her internal might.
And all that mattered now was that she eventually rose above and realised she’d won the fight. above and realised she’d won the fight.
I thought in losing a dear friend I wouldn’t be the same,
thought it’d cause my heart to ache.
But instead I flourished,
instead I found myself.
I want to reach into your mind (don’t fret, I’ll be kind)
Pluck apart your notion that you’re not good enough (I’ll do anything it takes, even if it’s tough)
Start a different thought pattern for you (I just never, ever want to see you blue)
I’d do these things with all my might (and I won’t fail, for it’s within you I see the light)
I can fake it, sure. I can be one of the many people afflicted by mental illness that hides how they truly feel. I can pretend that it will all be alright, can pretend that I’m not dying on the inside.
But I can’t bare to lie anymore.
It’s hard to describe how I feel, really. There is a large part of me that wants to do the above, in order to save myself and stop hurting everyone around me.
But I just cannot walk through hellfire daily and not speak of the burns.
I am not that person. People must know that such pain exists within some human’s minds. They must know that sometimes getting out of bed feels like torture and trying to act ‘normal’ is god damned impossible.
If people don’t know these things, then everyone would end up suffering.
It’s at the point where it’s just easier to say “I’m alright.” Rather than tell the horrid truth.
When it comes down to it, I don’t think I’ll ever find another soul on this wretched earth who truly, really, understands what I say when I explain what goes on in my head. I can try to explain, but words are never enough.
My thoughts collide at such speed and force that I can’t keep up, and it’s awfully tiring to try to cope with. There’s a rational side of me that tells me I will be fine, that I can stand this and that I do deserve this life. But then there’s the deep, dark voices. They say the opposite, they say it’s time to give up if you can’t get better and if you can’t give up? Then be quiet. Suffer in eternal silence.