For the past week I've not been walking around feeling wounded; I've been wounded. My anxiety has ripped open a hole in my chest so vast that I wonder if it will ever be able to close and if it does, how much of a scar will it leave? This big gaping wound is so vast that I'm quite certain it's visible on the outside.
I suffer from mental health issues. A major blow, small by comparison in any mentally healthy person's life, left me feeling like all the hard work I have done was in vain and that the end result is not as pretty as I would like it to be. My mind is a sea of obsessing thoughts and it has spread to my body. The connection between my body and my mind is so strong now that there's really not separation.
I don't feel unloved.
I am unloved.
The intellect can argue and create images in my mind of people who appreciate me and love me, the intellect can present me with arguments and examples to prove all this, yet I'm completely alone on a hastily constructed raft in a raging sea and there's no sign of rescue.
My depression has returned and it's has me in a grip so tight that I'm certain it will never let go and that things will get worse. Its hot breath is on my face and even with closed eyes I know for certain it's preparing to swallow me whole.
What will become of me?
The first obvious choice I have to make is whether I go back on medication or not. Do I succumb and wait the four to six weeks for the gaping hole in my chest to close and allow my raft to drift to shore and back to "normality". Do I allow chemicals into my system that will even out the highs and lows, take away the pain and allow me to assimilate into humanity again? Do I allow these chemicals into me that take away pain and anxiety, that allow me to sleep but also prevent me from falling in love and looking at the sky in awe of its beauty?
There's a part of me that's completely fixated on the heartache I've suffered. There's no redemption. Part of my mind is completely and utterly unable to believe that I was done over in the way I was and it wants it fixed. It wants this terrible mistake and mix up to be righted. Bring in the rainbows and the unicorns! It's a misunderstanding. Surely.
Part of my mind wants everything that was said about me being a fantastic writer, and that comment about how I set "unrealistic goals and achieve them" (but if they're achieved they're not unrealistic I argued - "they should be" was the answer followed by a look that hinted at the worry I cause with being such an overachiever) to be worth so much more than the comment about how I appear negative nowadays. My mind has ceased the negativity comment and made a placard so big of it that it covers my whole mind scape.
There it is. My depression summed up in one short sentence.
I have tried to shove enough positive into my mind to last me a lifetime but it's like a transplant being rejected or a new beautiful dress that I just can't squeeze into.
I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and I'm comfortable there because standing there means I don't have to try to fit in or ask to be rescued. Behind me humanity, society, community and life. In front of me a raging sea of....I really don't know what but I don't fear it anymore; sometimes it even feels reassuring to think I could belong to the waves crashing into the rocks and the chaos made where water, air and stone meet.
I am completely alone. I'm the void and no one is missing my presence in the world behind me. Not a single person has looked up and seen the empty space where I used to stand, if they have they don't care that I'm not there anymore. That's what my mind is telling me.
My soul tries telling me a different story.
I'm not ready to listen to the messages my soul is trying to send me. It's out there somewhere beyond the chaos of the sea below the cliff and it's using semaphores attempting to communicate with me. I'm not listening, I'm blind to it, but it's refusing to give up. It's not telling me to go back and find my place back in the fold, in humanity, society, community and life, it's telling me to walk on through to the other side (and it's really sounding like Jim Morrison when it says it). I refuse to believe it and I'm still confused as to what is being asked of me. Who in their right mind would take the step out in the commotion of the raging sea below, a step off the cliff, and trust that somehow it will be OK.
No one is coming for me. No one is reaching out to bring me back to my place inland and in humanity. No one is bringing soft cotton wool to stuff that empty gaping hole in my chest with. No one.
No one is supposed to come. I know that with my whole being. I should feel alone and abandoned but somehow I don't, not fully and hopelessly anyway.
Maybe I'm finally losing my mind or maybe this is the break I've been looking for. Maybe this is the rebirth, the reclaiming, the healing. Maybe it's just the opportunity. If I keep standing on the cliff nothing will change. If I turn around and go back nothing will change.
Maybe all I need to do is to jump and everything will be OK again.
It's not the time to be a coward. It's the heroes journey and I will keep coming back to this point unless I do something to finally take on the beast that's been living inside me for eternity. The fear of failing is great. The fear of failing is the only thing holding me back - ever.
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