I am not great: as a matter of fact, I do not think I have ever experienced a glimpse of happiness since my inception into this big world. It is so ironic; like a ray of light, I disperse love, but cannot seem to absorb or exert that love on myself. Self-love is just a sick joke. My thoughts have poisoned my mind. I have devoured so much of the poison my mind poured for me, now I feel numb to any positivity that walks through my life. All I picture is a vague distorted image, I only see what my thoughts have trained me to see. My feelings are fully submerged through illusions of love, hope, and fantasies. At the end of the day, I truly feel lonely, hopeless and insecure.
This feeling only disappears when I feel true pain. I found a coping mechanism, one that I am not proud of, but it guides me. If I cut into my arms and legs deep enough, I begin to feel okay. A sense of accomplishment dawns over me, I begin to listen to my heartbeat pounding so hard like a warning knock, gravity begins to slowly lose its grip, everything fades and I hear nothing. Everything is at peace, I am at peace. I know then that I have succeeded, I am finally free from my daily battles with the invisible enemy, I no longer worry about giving in to the riots of negative thoughts. However, it does not last. It begins again. The never ending cycle of self-hate.
I am lonely, I feel suffocated and ashamed. I am held back, I am drowning, the reefs coarse my skin with blood, pushing me towards the sea, consuming my spirit. Yet, I can’t bring myself to care, this is my norm, my daily routine, this is me. I wake up and I feel inferior and invisible. I’m too difficult to love, I can’t even love myself. I am a fool because I keep trying, I keep trying to be someone that I will never be.
I long for friendships and long-lasting relationships. These will be the draw that hides the blades, the music that blocks out the self-loathing thoughts, the body that carries my collapsed frame to the bed, comforting my deep wounds and dark pasts. Love will not heal me but it will comfort me, it will force me to forget, it will teach me a joke and maybe I’ll fight to stay alive long enough to laugh at that joke, I’ll fight to see myself differently.
I cannot cope with these inner demons. One day it’s a small fish in the bed of a river, the next it is a shark hunting its prey. These demons imprison me inside my own head. It is something I long to fix, but I’m too afraid to. They were with me for so long, now I am too afraid to live without them. So I hide behind this persona that I created for the public. An unusual impulsive persuasive woman, unconcerned with remorse or guilt. She masks her depression behind her crazy schemes, humor, and her education.
I’m working on this mental battle and intend to fix it, and I know that this journey requires a lot of patience, persistence, and help from others. I know that speaking up to people would overwhelm me, so I decided to first start off by repeating key daily affirmations. I will constantly remind myself that it is okay to hide from the world, it is okay to not to be okay, and it is okay to need help. I now know that mental illness is not a failure, and is something that can be fixed. I plan to overcome this battle by communicating, allowing myself to be open with my experiences, and be willing to accept help from anyone who emphasizes and is willing to help me combat this difficult journey.