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…