MY.HEAD.IS.SPINNING.ALWAYS…ALWAYS. As I’m at work, as I’m driving, as I eat breakfast, as I lay in bed, there is a soft hum of spinning. My body is static. My vision is clear. From the neck up my thoughts jump from carnival ride to carnival ride. I breathe in. My body is numb casting a blank stare forwards. I am thinking about everything in the world.
All of the answers are at my finger tips. My mind is blank, completely empty. When I look at nature I’m overwhelmed with peace. I’m drawn towards lush green trees, warm rays of sunshines, and cotton candy clouds. All I want is to hold on to that peace.
It doesn’t matter that I don’t know who I am. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know who I want to be. It is enough that I am me and in this moment. I’m here. I’m creating my own path because those of others simply will not do. My strength will not be wasted. I will only grow stronger. The spinning may never stop, but neither will I.
When I was younger, I use to look around and try to see only the good in others. While honorable, my father said it always worried him. Twenty-one years later my father’s worry manifested in ways unforeseen to innocent eyes, I understand.
Now I look around and hope never to see a single soul again. People disappoint. Others take advantage. But what about the good people do? Think about how many times you remember the good someone does for you or the bad they do to you.
How do we look each other in the face? Answer, with a friendly yet slightly bitchy smile as we continue stabbing each other in the back.
I feel like the before and after on one of those extreme makeover shows. The difference is changes in my appearance are slight. It’s the change in me. The other day I went to see my psychiatrist. Our appointments use to be so bad that he made me bring my parents in because I refused to talk. The other day he told me I had changed. I simply replied “I know.” He said, “you don’t ask how or in what way.”I didn’t need to.
As much as I think treatment for those with mental illness is scam, it did provide me with one thing. I got away. I got away from all the people in my life that as me and my best friend call it “sucked.” I’m not saying these people sucked all the time, but when they did it was like stabbing someone bleeding on the floor. When someone who is in no way better, prettier, smarter, more fun, whatever it may be constantly tries to belittle you, it comes to a point you tell them to F**k off or you let it start to eat at you. My whole life had been a revolving door of letting these assholes in. I already hated myself enough that I wasn’t going to do anything about it. So for years I acted like the grumpy bitch, when actually I’d been stabbed so much I was dying inside. If this was how people were and this was how life felt (undiagnosed) then why would people ever want to live it? You’re born, you make mistakes, you screw up other people’s lives, and you die. I didn’t want to be apart of it. I didn’t want to “suck” too.
When I went away after the severe anxiety and crying, I took a breathe and realized it’s just me. I could completely isolate if I wanted to, who was going to stop me? I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I avoided. I am avoiding. Without even knowing it, I put my mask back on and tried to fool the world. This time was different. As I was pushed and pushed and pushed, I didn’t care enough anymore. Cool, calm, and collected I shared my morbid thoughts and struggle. “Such a beautiful girl shouldn’t think like that, she shouldn’t be like that.” Please stop telling me I’m too pretty to kill myself. My outside appearance will not save my life.
What’s saving MY life? Prayer.I moved away. I kept journals.Meditation.Reading.I tried newthings.Therapy.Working.Music.Yoga.Ocean.Beach.Friends.School.Sunshine.Laughing.Forgivness.Humility.Thankfulness. And Endless Love.
Working to change a lot of the parts of yourself, you just thought would never change is grueling. No one wants to open up or get vulnerable. No one wants to hit rock bottom. Coming home after 9 months, all your friends and family can only say is this the best you’ve ever been. They see the change you thought was just internal. They didn’t even know that you had taken some time and space for yourself. They just say that I look great. Yes, I appreciate the compliments, but they don’t make a difference. The only difference that matters is the change in me.
Why are you even targeting addiction and mental health so heavily? I’m pretty sure your cozy college dorms or houses are nothing like the streets or trap houses addicts go to looking to score. And do not give me this “well I’ve seen friends or I have family members” line. YOU HAVE NOT PERSONALLY BEEN TO HELL AND BACK. You haven’t been in hospitals, jails, and other institutions. Addicts have.
So now you are going to say it was our choice, but here is the fact of the matter; some people can do things that others can’t. Yes it was my choice to take the first drink of alcohol when I was an underage teenager, but you probably would have been right there beside me. The difference is you can drink alcohol and I can’t. So are you blaming people for doing something they didn’t know there would be severe consequences to? Consequences that THEY have to live with, not you, them.
Lives of addicts are hard enough without people, who have no clue what any of it’s about, bringing them down. These are human lives. Addicts have to step over enough dead bodies to reach their recovery. Why do you want to add more? They are already taken advantage of by the people that say they’re going to help them, but drain them of every penny. These people are hurting and need help.
Have you ever heard of a thing called dual diagnosis? A lot of addicts have a mental disorder they are unaware of. It drives them through so much pain they just want to escape themselves. So they pick up their addiction. I am Bipolar I and I used alcohol to manage my cycles because I didn’t know what to do. I’ve tried to kill myself four times. It miserable how much I think about suicide. My life is a fight.
I am a junior in college despite my trips to the hospital, rehab, outpatient, etc. I work part-time. I have a boyfriend. I am not some monster that needs to be put down by others. We are losing our ability to empathize, we dehumanize, and we go after another because we can. Addicts are sick. They get high to lose themselves, to runaway from the trauma, or the thoughts or whatever they struggle with. An internal struggle is still a struggle. Sorry, not sorry me and my addiction and mental illness offend you.
Word to my fellow crazy,
Family, friends, randoms, and other fuckers will all tell you, “you need help.”
Will they help you? Nah. Family and friends only know the sick you, even if they were able to provide the bulk of the help you need, it is going to be really hard for them to accept your change. In the end most likely you won’t be able to maintain your change and the cycle repeats. On to the next, psychiatrist, get ready to feel like a lab rat and pay for it. Therapist ummmm some, good some bad, find one you like, literally it’s luck. It’s a shot in the dark. Beware of idiots. Treatment centers….. Residential aka Rehab is better than the Outpatient bullshit and when I say BULLSHIT not kidding. Group therapy blows, sometimes you watch movies, sometimes you have arts and crafts like you’re five, and sometimes they have their heads so far up their assholes they don’t know what’s going on. Best part about treatment centers they take your insurance then want to take your literal soul to pay the rest. THOUSAND$$$$$$$$$$$$$. Oh Oh and let’s not forget the halfway houses that go with it. Charging you so much for rent you can never get on your feet. Always stuck. You will meet people who relapse. You will meet people who die. No one likes halfway. They say some people need it. I don’t see how.
They talk, all talk about your disease, your mental illness, funny thing is they don’t get it. All these places have too many people involved who don’t suffer from this shit. They’ve had friends or family or blah blah blah. Well fuck off. If it’s not in your head or in your brain don’t try and tell me how to act or feel or behave. People who don’t suffer like you, just hurt you more when they try to help you. Give me your empathy and support. The rest is between me and God.
Yes, I get the need for medical and other health care professionals is imperative, but why is there so much manipulative business going on around mental health diseases that take people’s lives? People look at me and may think the things I say or do are sick sometimes, but I can’t help that I’m sick. These fuckers chose to be sick and take from those who just want help. I just wanted help. I went through it all. They said it would help. I did everything I could to get help. After all this, on my birthday I tried to kill myself for a fourth time.
Now that I’ve finally emotionally matured enough to using my words, “I need alone time,” always yelled in a fuck off type manor, is my friend. Do I think it sounds stupid? Do I think I sound like a child? Do I care? Yep. Yep. And nope. Before I wouldn’t say a word as I was literally getting so annoyed with people I couldn’t stand them breathing. If they made the wrong noise everything they’ve ever done ever or that just in general about them that pisses me off would flood the floor. I’m a really nice person.
In all honesty, I hate people. They blow. Obviously, they are here to stay though, stupidity, lying, and dumbassness included. And as I am told I have excellent people skills!! (Cruel joke right?). I guess that explains every politician though, they’re good at what they do and probably actually hate “their” people. It’s not hard to smile pretty and fuck someone over, we’ve all done it. Moral of story, people still blow.
I always think about it as someone started out as this huge raging giant smashing all the little people. Then when those little people become giants they smash the next set of little people and so on and so on. People act on examples and standards. We have shitty examples and standards, probably why people are acting like their cats and dogs are humans now… still weird…
I chose to sit with myself. Read. Draw. Write. Sleep. ALONE TIME. It makes the assholes in the world seem insignificant and fleeting.
Do you ever get anxiety about the stupid shit you are going to do? I physically feel nervous for things I neither want nor plan to do, but who the hell knows. May 1. It is the day that legally I can buy and consume alcohol. April 21. I just hit 8 months sober. I should *emphasis, prayer, locking me in a bedroom* hit my 9 months in May. I don’t want to be 21, I don’t want the temptation. My fakes were taken, no one I knew was going to buy me alcohol and when I was past that point and did go out, I was mentally prepared. I AM NOT CAPABLE OF BEING MENTALLY PREPARED 25/7.
I am impulsive. Literally for as smart as people tell me I am, I gotta whole lot of stupid. There are some poor judgements, lack of morals, disregard of consequences or general feelings, ideas along those lines in addition. You don’t know your future and that makes me want to break down and scream. I HATE not knowing if I’m going to go flying off into an episode like Peter Pan into f**king Neverland. I HATE picking up the pieces, all the trust I lose, and all the people I hurt. I HATE sorting through the bullshit of mental lows, highs, and the me I’m trying to become. Sometimes drowning the shell of yourself in tequila then lighting a match to it all seems so much better. I’d rather burn in flames than in desires to be different.