My heart and my mind are conflicted with one another.
“Run away, girl, for you’re nothing but a burden.” the voices shout, over and over.
But my heart says the opposite. It tells me to choose life and to stay, to embrace what I’ve been given and that I am a gift.
Alas, it is the truth that the brain is the one calling the shots.
If I were one to listen to my brain, I would surely be dead by now. And that’s the sad truth of it.
My heart has done well by me, it has kept me alive and striving for anything good in life – but it is breaking under all the pressure of fighting the mind.
So what am I to do?
It’s taken quite a long time for it to set into my brain that I did not ask for any of this, nor do I deserve the pain I feel.
I am not a burden.
I am not worthless.
I am not ashamed.
I am not a victim of trying times, but a survivor of them. I fight relentlessly every single day of my wretched life even if I don’t particularly want to do that anymore.
I am strong.
I am resilient.
I am human.
The pain may be everlasting, but I can get through it. I always have, and I always will.
At this point in my life, I would rather feel nothing than to deal with the reality of it all.
Manic as hell means no feelings for me, or if I do happen to scrape up the ability to feel something, it is probably nonsense that passes my train of thought within seconds, so it doesn’t really bother me – to be completely honest.
When I’m not manic, it seems I am in a constant state of depression. Nothing and no one can fix the feelings and thoughts that run rampant through me. And it fucking hurts, you know?
It hurts to know that no matter how hard you try, you can’t feel what happiness really is, you can’t change what’s happened and you can’t fix yourself in the long term at all.
Every little hiccup in life snowballs into something fierce and terrifying, that I simply cannot handle, nor cope with.
So I guess I’d rather stay this way.
At what point does the madness stop?
I certainly don’t know where it began, so I do not have much faith in ever knowing the answer to this question, either.
It feels as though I am continually falling then getting up, and while I’m dusting myself off – I get kicked right back over.
It is a horrendous cycle of everlasting pain that makes me question everything.
But there will never be any answer, except that this is my life, and I must deal with it.
Although I have been depressed for as long as I can possibly remember – I am finding fleeting moments of stability, and what I assume to be happiness.
I’ve never been a happy person. Too many mental illnesses colliding all at once, too much trauma, too many let downs in general.
So when these feelings come on, I feel pride, as well.
I have been through so much, and I have never really admitted that before for the sake of not wanting to be seen as an attention seeker. But it’s time to let go.
It’s time to embrace that my life is what it is. It may be messy, it may be downright sad a lot of the time, but that’s okay. Just like it’s okay to feel this happiness, even though I’m not too sure what that feeling means yet.
I hope and I plead,
everything will all work out,
and that this pain will stop, my body will heal,
and I will finally know what it feels like to be truly happy and healthy.
I hope and I plead,
I’ll wake up stronger than the previous days,
and I’ll feel as though I’m actually going to be okay.
They’ve got me surrounded.
They’ve taken over.
I can’t escape.
I can’t run and I certainly can’t hide.
Some of them scream and shout at me.
Some of them have a gun to my head.
They’re nasty beasts.
They’re the voices in my head.