Who cares anyway

You fix your make-up in the morning and in the evening

You smile at people the whole day, and at night

But on some days, the smile just wants to have a rest

To sit back in the corner and just cry

To stir its own grief away

But you force it there

No matter what, they can’t know

They can’t know how dark your smile is

They can’t know that you don’t want to smile

They just can’t know that you’re tired of smiling

So you put your best food forward

Hoping you won’t fall

Smile, they’re looking…

Gone

So, I came across this verse today, actually about a minute ago or so

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3:1

I’m under heaven, right?

Right…

It’s the time for everything and season parts I don’t get

I’ve been struggling for years with this thing,

misdiagnosed a couple of times by different people,

mistreated as a result, by different people,

and also thrown and left in a psych hospital once (I don’t even know if that can be called a hospital)

I think sometimes my mind flirts with insanity – I fear one day I will just not be lucid

 

All things considered, I thought I was making progress, dear readers

But I’m here again

Suicidal again – if you’re gonna ask me what happened, or whether I’m depressed or upset or feel like it’s all too much, or that I want something (a lot refer to “the pain”) to go away, you clearly do not know what a suicidal person goes through, or where they’re at.

You know the feeling you get when a weight has been lifted off your shoulder?

You feel light, relief, free, and carefree.

You may be around people, but their voices are already far away,

you may try to sing along to music, but your voice is already gone, but it doesn’t bother you,

you may try to think (or remind yourself to remember to think) about a loved one, someone you usually would die for, but that thought is behind a soundproof glass door in front of you, so you can’t really hear it

you no longer try to smile as hard as you normally do, you just do, however, because you’re no longer sad

you may even get a million banana milkshakes (yes, I  like those, or at least I used to), you stopped eating long ago, but you’re okay

you talk a lot, but you’re not really saying anything meaningful

you start making a memory box and tidy up (I don’t do tidy guys, but my place has been tidy for over a week now)

contingency plans, much?

 

Well, here’s the thing, when will this season end?

I am trying guys, I even told my therapist, and I’m going back to hospital, but really what the hell am I doing? It’s like all this is on purpose…

 

 

Running

Today I tried very hard to run away from thinking about killing myself,

from killing myself

I slept, I snoozed my alarm for two hours, at 10 minute intervals each

I thought of telling someone

ask for help

ask for someone to stand guard

I woke up

I deleted my whatsapp

I thought about telling someone

I washed dishes

I thought I should call someone

I made food

I thought of texting someone

I ate

I wondered who I could talk to

I washed dishes

I asked myself who would understand

I cleaned my room

I thought of my therapist

I took off the washing

I wondered what help it would do to take these pills, I’m not feeling overly emotional – so what would they help, they’ve already calmed me down

I considered what I would say to my psychiatrist in January, when I have to check in with him on my six month check-up

I studied

I wondered who would understand

I washed dishes

I thought about doing yoga

I made coffee

I wondered if Patience was okay, I haven’t seen her all day

I stood outside

I deleted my facebook

I sat my desk

I wondered if I should text Katlego

I cut my wig shorter

I went numb in thought

I showered

I wondered if I should call my lecturer

I talk to some people

I wondered if God would understand

I came back to study

I thought of my anti-depressants

I took a walk

I wondered if I should break my phone

I stood with a bunch of people who talked

I wondered if any of them could see what I was thinking about

I thought of telling someone what I was thinking off

what I was trying very hard not to think about

I thought about my daughter,

about the fact that I haven’t called her yet

I wondered if I should post this

I wondered if I should call a hospital,

what would I say

I wondered if it would even matter

 

Breaking silently, rapidly

Breaking down is not something that is readily spoken about, more especially in the age that we’re living in.  We are more worried about saving face in front of our peers, colleagues, friends, family and more especially our parents.  I, for one do not need for anyone to see that I am falling apart inside, because I have so much to lose.

If you have read my bio, then you will be aware that I am an ex mental hospital patient, so I know what it is like when the ground gives way to all the things that come blasting out – those you have held onto for so long, and have not allowed to see the light of day that comes raying in through those eyes which you have trained so well to lie to those you so claim to love.

I like to think of myself as a very bubbly person, maybe disconnected from reality.  I am a receptionist where I work, but I take myself so seriously that I do not represent the cliché’s that one normally encounters when dealing with receptionist.  I have only two rules which I embody when I go to work in the morning, and these are (a). to look good, and (b). to be helpful and friendly towards every individual which enters the centre.  That said, I fear that my disconnect from reality, which I believe was caused by my short stint in that mental hospital – Fort England (I name it so that it seems more realistic to you), is catching up with me.

Now, I cannot blame one thing for my complete disconnect, but I do feel myself falling – and not slowly, but at a very rapid rate.  In the past when I would feel like this, this would be the time when I would take stock of my resources for committing suicide, and contemplate a follow-through with the one which seems most likely to work.  But, I am 25 years old, and I have a daughter to consider, so where does that leave me?

I have a wonderful job, with wonderful perks; I have a world of support from my family; and I am beautiful, so why do I feel like this cloud over my head is getting ever so big?

I spoke to Sam (my best friend) yesterday, and I told her that I was planning to go for counselling, but we both know that I probably never will.  There are many things I think I want to do, there are many things I say I want to do, but the scaredy cat in me just never does any of them.  I will list the ones that stand out the most to me. I want to completely quit smoking, start drinking water, jog every morning, take up tennis, and join a rape support group.  Those are the most important “need-to-do” things in my life right now, but it seems none of them are important enough for me to start doing.

Is it true that once you lose your mind, it will never completely return to you.  I think that statement is true in its entirety.  I seem normal, but I struggle to cross at intersections, not because I do not know my traffic light commands – but simply because I zone in too much on what’s happening and then I lose it – and then Sam gets mad at me because she cannot comprehend how a grown-up freezes even when the traffic light goes green for her.  I cannot take on too much stimulus, because I was stuck in a room by myself for so long, that for the past 5 years I have been learning how to have people around me.  I do not struggle with speech anymore, because I talk to people nowadays, but my thoughts still mostly remain in my mind.  I could be part of a conversation just by being present – my conversations with Sam are a very good example of that.  It’s not that she talks too much, she just knows that I prefer to keep quiet and nod, even when I do have something to say.  I used to just write it down or not say it at all, but now I just say anything – so sometimes it is inappropriate – it’s just really weird for me.  People complain when you don’t join in, but also when you do?

Anyway, there are so many things I think about on a daily basis.  I wonder how I would have turned out if I hadn’t had that nervous breakdown or been hospitalised, or been raped or had a baby.  I do not ponder these too much, because there is no going back to before any of these happened, but perhaps I would have been a very different person.

Maybe I would be a dr, or I would have contracted HIV by now, or I would have been dead, who knows?

For now, I am just breaking silently, rapidly…