It has been a trying month since my last post, a time of confusion, a time of being lost, a time of not knowing. My life has been not my own I feel for some time, I have lost the little grip of reality I thought I once had in life, but not knowing how to handle it I jumped off the high board and sunk to the very bottom. There on the bottom I laid. Looking back I thought I should have fought, but I remained motionless and helpless, like a little gumppy fish. Well I am here to fight, I must say that I am still swimming near the bottom, but the fact is that I am swimming now, not remaining motionless, but there’s a fight in me that I must release.
I say that it has been a time of confusion, for a variety of reasons, yet the most relevant is that connected with my up and down roller coaster of emotions with this patronizing bipolar condition attached at the hip.
It can be easy to say that one person accepts what their reality entails, but it takes a bigger person to say they can not accept what their reality entails because they want to fight. Fight to make it better than what others are saying. Fight to prove to your inner demons that you are worth more. Fight to change. FIGHT! The point is to fight, don’t stand idly by while life passes by.
With that said, this past month I have not fought, I let my demons wins. Time has been confusing because I let my guard down, refused to fight the delusions of my mind, I felt betrayed by my own brain, I gave in fully and became a scared little child. I am 28, going on 29 in less than a month and I became a child complaining of the demons that became more vividly to me. I began drawing them and setting the pages on fire, not wanting to give them life, when in fact I did. It is maddening me for letting this to happen.
Auditory hallucinations controlled my stability and ear infections followed. I was held in a constant darkness, sleep became my only escape at the beginning but even there I was scared. My night mares, night terrors would wake me in cold sweats, screaming out in agony. Some times I’d remember what happened in these vivid illustrations other times not. I didn’t have to wonder too much about where some of my dreams were about, since they were life events that happened, while the rest haunt me for not knowing; they were just being played on repeat for my horrible delight every time I closed my eyes. They had too much power. I was trying to find ways in which they were being given too much power, and that lead to countless episodes of crying throughout the day. Crying was the only release I had, just to escape from the screaming, the yelling, the casualties of war as some would say.
I’ve seen my psychiatrist two times in the last month, plus a phone consultation to adjust my medicine; which is a bit excessive. I wanted to commit myself almost everyday of torment that followed me, that’s how low I felt. Like a burden, but I’m fighting now, so does it really matter? I feel like those in my life don’t believe me, don’t understand, nothing to no avail seems to help.
When a person decides to give up on themselves, there is nothing any other person can say or do to change that persons mind, right? WRONG! I’ve been given a good swift kick back into reality, my reality. Now don’t get me wrong I wasn’t happy at the beginning, but I am re-learning to be not content but happy for them. Until next time, G. Merced, lingering confusion.