Panicked. Hopeless. Stranded. Anxious. Explosive. Helpless. Backed into a corner. I feel all of these things so intensely and I can’t reign it in. You tell me you love me, and I know you do, you take me in your arms and then the next day back away and say you can’t and that’s it’s my fault, which it is. Too many times in the past I pulled back, I was full of criticism of you and it was all wrong and all due to my own insecurities that I was projecting onto you. How unfair of me. I suppose I’ve made this bed and I must lay in it now but I am feeling out of control. I need you to let your guard down for me to calm down, please. I can’t stop the rush of feelings when you’re denying me, pushing me away, rejecting me. I’m out of hand. I am bursting at the seams, erupting with emotion, I feel backed into a corner and the only way out is clawing and forcefully pushing. It’s all wrong, I know, but it’s my fact, my personal reality.
My own hell, trapped in my own mind. The suicidal thoughts flow freely and they are overbearing, they trump any type of attempt on my logical parts to reel into the reality of the outside world. Extremes. All of my emotion are extremes. They are all severe in nature. Coping up against the mountainous terrain of emotional extremism is nearly, or so far proven actually, impossible for me to do.
I need to come down. I beg my mind to please come down. I beg my body to come down. I feel it all through my body. I feel my body shake with anxiety, I feel the warmth of rage within my stomach, I feel as if my chest will explode in an unwarranted rage, I am dizzy, I am lightheaded, my hands tremble, my eyes well up and the tears race down my face and I can just hug myself and hold my head as tight as I can and try to wait until it ends.
I have lost the entire war because I lose all of the battles daily. I’ve lost who I used to be, which is just so long ago. A memory that is so foggy I’m almost not sure it ever existed. I’ve already drowned. The weight has been exponentially getting heavier over time. Where there once was strength and positivity in the face of the world there is now self-blame, self-hate, hopelessness, sadness and a broken down body and mind who doesn’t think she is worth fighting for because she knows it’s over.
It’s safe to say the medications have stopped working. Maybe this is harder because I haven’t wanted to accept that I have to live my life with a miserable mind. Maybe I need to embrace the darkness that stirs within and accept myself as-is.
I feel more alone than I ever have. My lows go to depths where light doesn’t shine, like the sea floor where barely any life can survive and the life that does survive that far down is so bizarre. It looks nothing like what is up above, where the light touches.