It’s a shame I can’t be more consistent with my blogging, but I try not to be too hard on myself. My moods have been all over the place lately. Most recently, yesterday, I was paranoid, suicidal and dissociating to an extreme. Derealization and depersonalization became a constant. At one point my vision became blurred and I felt content to sink faster into nothingness, let my body go vacant. Wait for someone more capable to come and take over.
Have you ever felt unwelcome in the body you’ve always been told is yours and yours alone? The anxiety builds and my skin crawls, like I’m an intruder in this place and it’s real inhabit is ready to return. It’s an uncomfortable feeling to know you should be breaking through this shell, content to be weightless among a dense sky, brilliant and fleeting. But something went wrong, you can’t seem to break free. This heavy flesh weighs you down and you fear it will become your tomb. Each day your brilliance shines a little less, each day you pick hopelessly at this pelt, pinching, biting, scratching. Knowing it’s not what you were meant for. Knowing you are alien to this body and it wants you out of it just as much as you do.
Until one day you just stop shining all together.
I can feel the wave of intense emotion crashing just behind my skin and I know that soon it will overtake me. Soon I will be choking on the salty water, flooding my airways with suffocating depression.
I know this comes, I know it’s a part of the process. I can only fly so high for so long, but it’s like every time I forget the immensity of it all. I recall thoughts only days ago, “perhaps I’m not so sick”. Then it curls it’s sickening familiar fingers around my chest. I will become lost in this, I forget completely what happiness and hopefulness consists of.
I plead with the shot caller inside my head. Please, one more day? I’ll make it up to you. I’ll stay in bed twice as long this time, I promise. I know this pain is what you feed off of. I’ll give you it all tomorrow, I swear. Trust me.
I’m not listening to myself. My saline behind my eyes burn and the urge to medicate to unconsciousness burns brighter than I remembered it could. I’m losing the battle with my own mind.
And so the mighty fall and I have fallen hard
Gravel between my fingers and dirt in my teeth
It takes so little to knock me down one thousand pegs to where I belong
My body thrives on self loathing, my bone marrow is genuine disdain
My heart pumps no blood, it survives on disgust alone
My skin is flimsy and easily penetrated, porous and thin
It soaks up guilt and judgement til I am full and tight with self-deprecation
I have been a very inconsistent blogger, this I know. You can’t hold it against me though, I am very upfront about my short comings.
I have allowed myself to wallow in my depression for the past few days. Some may say that is unhealthy, but I find it’s important to let myself indulge in my misery or else I will constantly be anxiously fighting it and losing. I just need to succumb sometimes, let it wash over me. I have immersed myself enough for now and I am now ready to clear my head of negativity.
There has been some minor setbacks on my road to success and I am attempting to not let them overcome me. I have this voice in my head, I suppose it’s me. I’ve heard it referred to as negative self talk and it’s a bitch. We all do it, we curse ourselves a little after having that second slice of cake. When it comes to people with borderline personality disorder we do it so often and so viciously that it becomes more reality than our subconscious mind. When the stress becomes too much, as it had this week, a voice berates me on a constant loop. “You are not good enough” “You should just kill yourself” “Grab that razor and punish yourself, you don’t deserve to be happy”. It’s not pretty and it’s hard to control. It depends how badly I’ve fucked up, though my definition of fucking up is anything at all. I am astronomically hard on myself and I know it shows. If my outsides reflected my inner struggled I’d be covered in lashes and contusions. You’d see every little mistake I’ve made magnified tenfold on my self esteem, what little there is.
I am trying my best to go easy, I am trying my best to love myself. How do you go about minimizing self hatred that’s been boiling under your skin for two decades?
I wish I had something insightful to pass on to you to tonight, something inventive. To tell the truth, my creativity is descending with each thought my mind manifests. I’ve been experiencing intense feelings, I guess that’s how I can sum it up. My speech hasn’t been normal, I can hardly get a thought out without stuttering or slurring. My mind is racing far too fast for the my tongue to produce the oncoming thoughts. My aggravation is high, I’ve been punching myself, feeling an intense pain inside me. Like I’m ready to explode with an angry energy, not angry in the sense I’m unhappy, the energy just weighs heavy on me. My mind feels like taffy, being pulled and twisted by some unseen force. I can hardly keep a thought constant. That is why I have nothing astute to pass on to those who choose to read my ramblings. I wish to be a poet, I wish to be someone who imparts wisdom on others, someone to be remembered for her kindness and determination to her convictions. I wish to reach you all with my tender palms and guide you through your pain. I take on too much, I gather others sufferance and secure it to mine.
I feel like a wave of madness approaches, the waters lap at my door. Every moment of my life is on the border of pure insanity. I live every breath on the curb of a break down. I wish I had creativity for you all, but I have nothing to give.
Endless nights of eyes screwed shut
I obsess, I digress from my sleeping patterns
The beasts from my innocence are clearer to me now
revealing themselves as worry, doubt and instability
They gather around my bed, pulling at my hair, grasping for my eyes
They establish a stronghold in my body
They make my heart pound, thoughts race, pulse beat through my fragile skin
deep blue through pale
Sleep won’t come easy for a while
I wrote this at two am while I battled my anxious mind. It seems every time I lay down it’s the same. Check the time, toss, turn, repeat. Then my brain starts moving and words start coming to a head. I drive myself up the proverbial wall if I don’t get the ideas out. They’re pretty at first, anxious to be out of the tangled mess I call a mind. They’re inpatient though, if I don’t work fast enough they turn to acid in my brain. Corroding the thought process, filling me with apprehension. So, as usual I am up by nine with coffee in hand waiting for my day to begin.