The past two days have been weird. Something happened that triggered my mental state and it completely threw me for a loop. I wasn’t ready. What was my first thought?
It’d be better if I was dead. I know that’s not the answer. I KNOW it makes zero sense. But that’s what popped into my head. And that’s something that has not come back in a long time. I was 16 all over again. If I was dead I wouldn’t be a burden. If I was dead it would cost my family less money. If I was dead my parents would have one less thing to worry about. Do I have life insurance...maybe I’m worth more dead than I am alive. How do you get life insurance...? This is all utter nonsense. But nonetheless how my mind reacted. Once everything hit me, the new information I was given, the way I was feeling, I instantly wanted to cut. Everything that I was feeling can be described in one image. A knife. That’s what my therapist had me do anyways, describe how I was feeling with an image. The first thing that came to mind was a large steel knife. “How does that make you feel?” “Tempted”. All I’ve wanted to do these past few days is scream, cry, and dig my nails into my skin until I bleed. Because that’s what I used to do when it hurt to breathe. That was my go-to solution when I couldn’t feel a thing because I was so numb. I would cut, and I could breathe again. Feel again. I was relaxed and calm. I know now that it just creates a vicious circle and essentially does no good and makes everything worse. But in the moment there seem to be only two choices: cut yourself and relax, or resist and go absolutely mad in the meantime. I’ve gone mad in the past. By mad, I mean quite insane to the point where I do not feel I have any control over my mind and my actions. It is absolutely terrifying and it is a place I would not wish onto anyone. So you can see my dilemma when the urge to cut is there, because either way my mind is a literal hell. But “at least when I cut there’s a moment of release”. In that mindset, a moment feels quite tempting. And so worth it. Here’s the weird part. Right now, I think I’m fine. I don’t feel tempted, I don’t feel like I’m going mad. If anything, I’m numb. But a confused numb I suppose. Because this morning, I literally could not tell my therapist with absolute certainty that I would be ok when I left. I just couldn’t. See, how I visualize my mental illness is like Venom from Marvel, well known from Spider-Man. It’s this slithery, black, tar like substance that just consumes your whole body and you can’t get out. Once you’re bonded with Venom it’s hard to get rid of him, encouraging your darkest thoughts and desires, and becoming more monstrous and psychotic. That is why this is all so terrifying. Once those thoughts return I never know if they’re just visiting or here to stay. Maybe I’m fine, or not feeling much of anything, right now, but that in itself worries me because that’s not a good sign either. I said I would only post positive things in this blog. But this is not a very positive post. Perhaps the positivity in this post is the sheer awareness of how I’m feeling, what I’m dealing with, and how I know I DON’T want to live this way? Or maybe it’s just that I’m being open, honest, and showing others that other people feel this way and this stuff happens, and you’re not alone. Either way, I’m posting this to all of you, whoever wishes to read this. Asking for prayers and letting the world know that I don’t know if I’m ok, and that will have to be enough for right now, taking it one moment at a time.
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July 2019
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