Recently – all too recently – I became a mess. An unhandled mess. I started becoming manic. I started crying, I started fantasizing my own death.
It is not anything new. I have dealt with this sort of crazy all my life. It comes, it goes.
When it comes, it is scary – beyond any horror movie, beyond any sort of imagination. I am someone else.
At times, and there have been many, I have become so irratic. I think of putting myself in an institution for a while, just so someone can watch over me.
I cannot stop the thoughts. I cannot stop the pain. I can only become aware that it is here, and I must deal with the fantasies, the mania, the crying, the insanity, in my own way.
Unfortunately, it seeps out for others to see. It oozes and they wonder if I will be okay.
I have to go on. I know this. I am here for some unspoken reason, beyond anything I can see. I am here to help, to guide, to give purpose, when I have nothing to give.
To all who have seen my insanity, do not worry, it comes and it goes, like the tide.
I only have to be aware it is here. I have to reach into the depths of who I am and pull out the last shards of hope I have left, which seem to fill when I am sure I have nothing left.
I have to apprectiate the times when I am somewhat normal – when my insanity is at bay; sleeping.
This is what it is like to have an unwired brain. To have your synapses misfire. To live inside yourself, never finding a way out.
I am a mere poster child for mental health. I am your friend who is not quite right. It is in my gene pool. I am hardwired to be the weird one. You love me, but you’re scared. You hold tight, but you space yourself when I escape your box.
I am not normal. I was never meant to be. But please, please never lose sight of me.
During the course of this blog, I have revealed many things about myself. If you have followed along, you may have pieced them together.
I am broken. I have a lot of issues. I have seen therapists, psychiatrists, and I have diagnosed myself. The most anyone can say is this: I certainly have anxiety, PTSD, and I may have low grade schizophrenia, coupled with major depressive disorder. Some think I have bipolar 1. Some think I have a personality disorder.
I am tired of lables, so I decided I am just me, a mess.
Recently, I snapped. It was not a full break. It was a partial misalignment.
During my manic phase of insanity, I wrote something. I do not remeber what I wrote. Truthfully, I am scared to open my notebook. I am scared to read the words. They reveal something I would rather hide, I am sure.
I am going to read what I wrote, and post it below.
The point of these jumbled words written above and below, is to give you a glimpse of my mind. A glimpse of what it is like coming out of my insanity to reach my normal, and what is like when my insanity has me trapped.
I am here to help, to give, to receive, and to teach. When you look at me, you see a seemingly normal person who probably has it all together. I am anything but. I am everything, and I am nothing.
Thank you for following me on my journey. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being my friend. May we live another day. May we grow to love each other.
I am opening my notebook now…
I feel this strong, urgent need to hurt myself.
I need to punish myself.
The urge is real, feeling diminished by these words, making it feel fake.
If I tell you, you would not understand.
no one understands.
I feel strong anger toward myself.
Toward these thoughts.
These horrible, raging thoughts.
If anyone here is damaged, it is me.
Like a broken mirror, hopelessly glued back together.
The shards are cutting me. With each piece forcefully being put into place.
I am a broken mirror.
no one can see the cracks but me.
no one knows how deep the glass cuts.
I am a broken reflection
If I find a piece, it is too late.
I already put another piece there
but it did not fit
I am a broken mirror
constantly skewed and never the same
let the glass become who you are
broken and smeared with pain
filled with tears
let your reflection show the real you
shattered, distorted, scarred
just fill in the holes
with more glue
so the black is hidden
do not let anyone see behind the mirror
it is barely holding you together
it was never strong enough from the beginning
you’re a shattered mess
filled with scars and tears
you’re broken, sharred, splintered
you’re cracking again
get the glue
we are out
then the tape will do
It wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Until next time…