This weekend has been hard, especially on my mind. At times I have just wanted to lie down and die. The buzz in my head have been too much. A constant chatter of voices have disturbed my peace. It’s hard when the ideas rushes by and you can’t really catch them before they are gone. You try so hard with all your might but it is near impossible and when you do manage they just crumble in your hands into nothingness.
My brain is defect. It’s been damaged by all the depressions I have gotten through the years. My memory has suffered greatly, more now than ever since I eat a medicine with the side effect that is memory loss. Why, you ask, do you eat such a medicine? Don’t you want to remember? Maybe not, I don’t know. Some things I rather leave behind, others might be good to remember, and then there are things I wish I could forget but they cling on to my mind like leeches, feeding off of my fear and anxiety.
It’s not only the depressions that has hurt my brain, I also have manic episodes. They are worse. It’s easier to be suicidal than manic. It’s easier to get pulled up from a deep hole than get caught flying. Only when you fly too close to the sun your wings melt and you precipitate down to earth, down into that deep hole. The fear you feel when you are falling is too unbearable, too real. You see your life before your eyes, your failure and all the people you have hurt during your time in the sun.
Down in the hole you sink deeper and deeper when you realise the magnitude the selfishness behind your actions up there in the light. A light so bright and shining. A light where everyone love you and cherish you. A light where you are the ruler and everyone want to be with with you. Want to be you. Because you are beautiful and fun, rich and generous. A false god. The truth is relentless down in the hole. You are not that popular, funny person everyone love. No one really love you when you fall down that never ending mountain you have been climbing. No one comes for you when you are falling. No one pulls you up when you are at the bottom. None of those people in the sun, only those who are closest to you. Those who have been there and helped you through all your flights and falls.
You don’t want to hurt them anymore. Down there in the hole, that’s what you think. The anxiety screams inside your brain. You can’t get the voices to be quiet. All you want is some peace. All you want is for your loved ones to have a happy, calm life. You are not helping them, you are only a bother. You destroy their happy life. With you in their everyday they can never find peace. That’s what you think. You never think that their love for you might be bigger than all the trouble you cause. Because, how can it even be possible? How can someone chose chaos and trouble before a calm, peaceful life.
I create chaos in people’s life. I act out on a whim and rush off into some new adventure before anyone really understand what I am doing. And then I hurt myself, physically, because the anxiety gets too strong and I can’t handle it any other way. I have a plan for how to kill myself. I lie to my doctor when he asks me how I sleep. Of course I sleep more than 3 hours a night. If I don’t say that he’ll admit me to the psychiatric ward. I’ve been there before, I don’t want to go back again. So, I lie. He doesn’t believe me, I can see it, but he doesn’t say anything either. Instead he make a new appointment a little sooner than normal and then he tells me to call if things get out of hand. I of course never do. I think he trusts my loved ones to contact him if something out of the ordinary happens. I think he is right, they will do. If they discover it on time. I lie to them too. Often. I’m good at that. To lie. Somehow you get an expert at it if you have done it for as long as I have.
I had my first depression when I was 11. Not that anyone cared or talked about it. It was just a stomach ache. Come on, go to school, you have to. You can’t stay home. I hated school. I hated my class mates. I hated the fact that I didn’t have any friends and I hated the fact that I never belonged. I have realised now, with my history of anxiety, that I have had anxiety for as long as I can remember. I used to tackle it with over eating. I still do now and then but I also have medicine I overuse at times. You might say that I abuse them. Well, when I was little I either ate or hit myself. One time I took a hammer and hit myself as hard as I could. I figured that I could break my arm because that way I would be in pain for a long time. Pain is a very good anxiety reliever. I was ten. My friend broke her arm later that day. The irony.
I didn’t mean to write all this. What I meant to write was about my weekend and instead you got my miserable life. Ah well, I’ve had a shitty weekend, filled with anxiety and brain buzz. I did do some anime related stuff as well but that has to wait for another post. This got to personal for me to write about lighthearted stuff. Sorry about this. I might writer more about this in the future. I do have a plan to some day process my life in writing. Maybe I’ll do it here. Who knows.