As of late, meaning the past week, I am feeling very triggered. I can’t let anyone touch me. I react if I am told what to do. Sounds are amplified and I can’t stand to hear anything but constant noise such as chatter, music, or a fan.
My head hurts and not in a figurative sense. It really hurts. I am beyond exhausted. On my days off, I sleep – a lot.
I am in a constant state of anxiety. I am always on the verge of wanting to cry or become angry.
It isn’t pleasant.
This is my life. Some days are better. Some days are worse.
At the moment, I have removed myself from the living room where my mother is crunching on celery sticks filled with tuna salad.
I can still hear the crunching and I can smell the tuna salad and it’s making my head throb.
Often, I feel I am completely insane.
I have no diagnosis. I am just a full functioning lunatic, hiding amongst the others.
I go out in public. I shop. I drive.
I’m writing to let you know – here I am.
I am you, but I am not.
I can’t stand how close you are to me while we wait in line. I don’t like how you smell. I can’t stand the way you breathe. I can’t stop focusing on how you are eating.
I want to ignore it. I want to turn down the amount of volume I take in, the amount of smell I filter.
I want to be normal. I want to be the other person in the room who isn’t affected.
The one who asks if everything is okay because they can clearly see I’m about to lose touch with reality.
I start to do things that help me cope. I start squeezing my thumbs. I try to focus my breathing. I try to tune it out. In some cases, I leave. It’s rude, but I have to – for my safety. For everyone’s safety. But most of all, for my sanity.
I must, at all costs, keep what is left intact.
I hold on by loose threads. I dangle over the edge of a great cliff by my own threads as they slowly break.
I can hear them snapping in an inconsistent manner and it’s all I can do to make it stop.