this mask i wear
But I couldn't.
Instead I laid there listening to random noises from upstairs that made me jump. My heart would race even faster than its normal 100 bpm, my limbs shaking, panic setting in over stupid sounds that didn't mean anything.
But I couldn't stop it.
It's like having another person inside me controlling everything I do and say. I don't want to tell Steven to leave me. I don't want to tell him nothing is wrong when we both know I've been sobbing in the shower for fifteen minutes. I don't want to cut myself after so long of being clean.
But I can't control it.
I hear myself saying things I don't mean. I see myself crying and cowering inside a closet underneath hanging clothes struggling to feel safe even though nothing is out to get me. I watch Steven try to help me and get shut down repeatedly.
Its a wonder he's still here.
It's razors constantly living inside my throat because I'm struggling not to cry. My head pounding from the stress of being normal because I have no choice. Living in a state of self loathing and self consciousness at every waking moment - which is often because I can't sleep.
Some days it isn't so bad. Some days I can play and laugh and enjoy my life like it should be. I can watch my children with happiness and love without wanting to also cry at how terrible of a mother I am.
my reasons
Because by all rights my life isn't the most terrible thing ever.
I've overcome multiple drug addictions, I can drink alcohol without letting it control my life, I've moved past people who abused me, I was a single parent who graduated from a 4 year college, I am raising 2 beautiful smart girls, I'm currently growing two amazing boys, and I'm married to the love of my life and after.
Why isn't this enough?
Because mental disorders aren't logical. I can't just decide that I don't want anxiety or mania or depression anymore. It's not like stepping past drugs through sheer willpower and that kills me. If I did that, surely I can master my fucking emotions right?
But I can't.
I've been to counselors and shrinks and I've taken so many different pills I don't even remember there names. I've tried being honest and open with counselors but have gotten no where. Actually my intelligent and matter of fact self diagnosis often makes them believe I'm fine and in need of no help.
Must I come in sobbing with blood running down the fresh cuts on my legs completely hysterical to get the point across?
Purely because I know I have to function I do.
During the day.
Around people.
With my kids.
My family.
My friends.
Strangers.
this love
And then at night when everyone's sleeping I silently go insane. Every feeling and thought I've buried throughout the day comes rushing to the forefront, lashing against my fragile mind.
There's no stopping the slaughter that is me.
Lately I even wait until Steven is asleep or gone because the thought of being vulnerable to him is too much to deal with. Just thinking about walking to him and asking him to comfort me sends my anxiety and panic into an out control spiral, though I know he's completely willing and ready to help me overcome even this.
But I resist.
I resist him. I resist change. I resist admitting that I can't handle everything. I resist the thought that I'm not strong enough to do everything alone because I resist being vulnerable.
To anyone.
Being vulnerable means giving someone else the power to destroy you.
Perhaps someday it won't be a struggle every day to survive. Maybe I'll find the right combination of meds or counseling. Possibly I'll be committed and forced into taking time to heal the broken pieces of myself.
Until then I'll struggle and fight to be everything I can be for my family and my beautiful children because that's what I do.
they keep me alive
