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Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts

Saturday, March 6, 2021

Blackout Rambles

 

                                                                                        

                                       Strung Out 
                                                                   
                                                           by:    fadeintoablackout
                                                                                                            
                                                                                              

I’m sitting here drunk, listening to music… on the radio! I would never listen to anything on the radio given the option. Yet here I am, sitting here drunk, looking for messages in music I would never listen to on my own; hoping to catch a “clue.” I suppose in this dark, drunken state this is how my psychosis is choosing to manifest itself.


As I sit here by candlelight, rocking back and forth, cuddling my own tortured thoughts; I have no choice but to accept this darkened solitude like most people with no trustworthy family and no close friends. After all, what’s new? No matter how many healthy friendships I have, or even if I’m in a loving relationship, I will still feel alone because everyone does. That’s the price of being human—we all feel the same, and we all cope with it horribly. So the weather for this Valentine's Day was frighteningly fitting—cold, bitter, and lonely; just like February 2020.


Everyone acts as if they care if someone is feeling suicidal, but they're full of shit. The only thing people care about is not being inconvenienced—one will say to reach out to friends, family, or a trusted loved one. What if your friends don’t care? What if the people that say they care about you are too preoccupied to care? What if you don't have health insurance and can't afford a therapist? What if psychiatric care, in general, is too triggering due to past experiences? Perhaps that's the universes way of telling me to off myself, just get it over with, you don’t belong. Perhaps friends and loved ones are just people you spend time with to help you forget about the pain of being alive, but they don't give a shit about you anymore than a stranger does. Maybe love doesn’t last forever and empathy doesn’t exist without something in return…


On Friday, February 12, I went to a rave. I had a blast by myself and said nothing to no one—except for a security guard, “Where do I show my tickets?”


The bartender, “I’d like a shiner please.”


And some random guy that asked me what time it ended, “2am.”


Oh, and the guys from the Tiny House Burgers food truck, highly recommend! So yeah, my social life is a total riot…


The problem with human beings is our primitive, tribal instincts. A rolling stone that gathers no moss tends to leave no impression, the same goes for human beings. A stone with “roots” so to speak, shows that it’s hospitable to others, reliable even. We can’t determine if a rolling stone with no moss is harmful to the unit unless it tears through like a wrecking ball (that's right...I'm listening to Mylie Cyrus), the same way we can’t determine if a loner is a loner by choice or had it enforced upon them.


Oh my God, Jlo’s ‘love don't cost a thing’ just came on… Is this accurate? Does giving a shit about someone truly come at no cost? I look at people who have either one person or a small collective of people that seem to love them and genuinely care about them, I won't lie, I do envy that. I don't really know what it's like to be in a stable, nontoxic relationship of any kind and I really want better for myself. I do have one friend I can count on from time to time, but she has a lot of her own personal issues and can't be there for me in the way that I need.


So what do I want? Do I want roots? Is it even worth it? I know every living creature on this planet dies alone, but am I meant to live alone regardless of how heavily it weighs on me, or how much I try to connect with others? I guess the real question is—what am I looking for and how do I want to be treated by another human being?

Monday, February 1, 2021

A cry for help

 


                                                     Henry Wallis' "Chatterton" 1865

  "My dear friend, I have been at war with the grave for some time now." Thomas Chatterton 


I don't reach out when I need help, some would say it’s self defeating; personally, I don't think anyone really gives a shit. I’m so used to people who say they care about me get angry and upset, suggest pills or hospitalization when my emotions are an inconvenience to them, or they have nothing to say at all. I mean, what could anyone say? People with depression aren't equipped to help others with depression, those who don’t have similar issues couldn’t possibly fathom the desperation that occurs.


I’ve been stuck in this gaping maw for nearly a month now, whenever I feel as if I’ve pulled through on my own, I end up being swallowed—I stop showering, I eat too much if I eat at all, and just getting out of bed feels like I’m sprinting uphill. The emotional baggage affects my neck, shoulders, and back. I thought about going to therapy, but I’ve been down that road many times before. Without insurance, its pricey and time consuming. Most of the time, you end up going through multiple therapists before you find the right one. I don't think I have that kind of time…


As much as I want to reach out, ask someone for help, it feels like emotional black mail to tell them I’m suicidal; but I feel like I need to tell someone. Yet, whenever I get around people, especially large crowds; I feel lost, alone, out of place—I spend most of my time feeling like I want to jump out of my skin, but what I really want and I try to do is feel comfortable in it. I’m so tired of fighting…


I want to reach out and connect with others, but I feel selfish for even trying. I don’t know who I am or where I fit, I feel completely and utterly worthless. Expecting more feels greedy and narcissistic, I feel like I don't deserve to be loved or cared about because theirs no way I’m good enough. I feel like a mistake…


If anyone is reading this, yes, it is a cry for help; but I don't expect anything from you, I certainly don't want you to feel obligated to reach out and try to help. Theirs no use in feeling just as uncomfortable as I do, I’ve done this alone before and I pride myself in being able to do so, I just hope I can do it again.


I want to want to live, but I’m completely clueless, and I feel guilty for being alive.


I don’t know what to do…

                                                                                    

                                                                 Art by: NerdGhostWaffles 
                                                       

Sunday, August 9, 2020

Unified by Turbulence

 


Ever had one of those days where you just want to put your fist through a window, to feel a wave of tranquility wash over you as you pick the glass from your arm? Well, that’s basically how I feel everyday…


When I’m happy, I’m angry.


When I’m sad, I’m angry.


When I’m completely content my mind will go a mile a minute at times, taking me to places that I don’t want to go. Although I try to shove it down, it doesn’t seem to fix the problem. With further contemplation in an attempt to provide myself with self awareness, I’ve realized that this is normal. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if maybe… just maybe it affects me more intensely. Given my diagnosis of BPD, a qualified professional would tell me that it certainly the case—yet with all the therapy I’ve done, all the drugs that I’ve taken, and all the progress I’ve achieved through sheer will and dedication; I still feel angry.


This is something that is unlikely to change—I can try my hardest to live my best life, but more than likely, I’ll carry this rage around for the rest of my life. Instead of ruminating and allowing it to crush my spirit, the best thing would be to accept that this is normal.



Anger seizes me…

I’m trapped

I’m choking

I’m dying within this flesh tethered confinement!

I’m just as benumbed to the life moving around me as they brag on their emptiness

as if apathy is something to be revered.

The world is shallow and savage

I feel my blood become frozen as my heart turns cold.

Now, with my baneful eye

I crave war and suffering with the metallic taste of death.

I am no different

I am just as cold

I am just as empty

I am just as vain.







Saturday, March 17, 2018

Anxious mutterings and False Pretense


 My anxiety with people overwhelms me. Every day I'm anxious about being social and opening up out of fear of how people might try to hurt me. It's not about what they think, it's about what they'll do. Does everyone feel this way?

I'm not perfect.

This is important because just like everyone else, I put up a front. Does everyone really do this, or am I just a fake piece of shit?

I'm.Not.Perfect.

 Nonetheless, I smile and I laugh trying to make the best of this mortal coil. This place is so fucked up, I force myself to talk to people and I do my best to interact; despite the fact that deep down every day I want to die. Does this make me crazy? Am I chemically imbalanced, or am I correct when I feel like I'm not meant to be here? I've personally never met a human that wasn't on some level mentally ill! I continue to smile and I continue to laugh, pretending that nothing is wrong. I do this because I don't know how else to cope.

I'M NOT PERFECT


Monday, August 21, 2017

Mental Instability



Enjoy your innocence
for it never ever lasts.
The world will suck you into a void of 
awareness, commercialism, and greed.
"What is normal?"  She slowly speaks
into the cold winter air.
Poor little 9-year-old girl
clutching her black one-eyed teddy bear.
Tears stained her face
already frozen.
So frozen
she was just about ready to shatter.
She may live the life of a princess
but in her delusional mind
stuffed animals and fairy tales attack her while she sleeps.
"Is this just a daydream?" Her innocent mind wonders
as she lies warm in her bed but still cold for it's her against her own world.
Everyone thought she was a bad little girl
and punished for her supposed wrongdoings.
So she became a bad little girl
and did what the evil stuffed animals told her to that choked her in the night.
She listened to the voices of the fairy tales that taunted her in her nightmares.
Now that her innocence has fled
the restraints on her wrists are tightened.
She suffers alone
alone she remains.
No more stuffed animals and no more fairy tales.
They were all just shadows
and they were all just voices...

Right?