Beyond the Boggled Mind

Ramblings of my boggled mind

wow

on February 20, 2015

I found this I guess I wrote it when it was bad, when I was with someone who couldn’t see I was broken and just breaking more every day. I’m glad I have someone now who can hold me, I might break down sometimes but nothing like this anymore I’m much better than probably I have ever been now. It’s so weird to find this I don’t know how old this thing is but it’s nice to see how I felt at one point and to how I feel now.

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It starts with a tingle, a slight burn in my stomach, and twinge of confusion in my head. And I know that the panic is going to surface, and I know that I am going to lose all fucking control, and I know that I cannot stop it. So I brace myself. I hold on for dear life and hope that this time I won’t cut myself or try to kill myself or hit or throw things or yell or scream. I hope that this time, I will just curl into a ball and take the beating silently.

I can’t breath. I can’t breathe. One cannot live without breathing, and I cannot breathe.

I desperately pull at my hair, pick at my skin. The tears come, the silent screams, I am bawling now. I say “I can’t do this again,” like I am a prisoner about to be tortured once more.

“Try your anxiety management techniques,” I think, like they ever work, I know.

This is too far past that. I lose all control. I become an insane person, I lose touch with all parts of my sanity. This is not on the same planet as manageable anxiety.

So I go to the doctor. And I bawl on the table. I don’t ever stand up for myself, but at this point, I need her help. I never ask for medication, in fact, I told my counselor that I didn’t want nor need it. But things have changed.

“I need something to help me,” I cry.

“Are you going to hurt yourself or someone else? Are you thinking of suicide?”

Am I going to tell him? “Well…” I start, not sure how much to divulge, “When it gets really bad, sometimes I think about, maybe, possibly, doing something … but I mean, I don’t want to.”

“Well, it looks like there isn’t anything I can give you that would be of use to you. Try a crisis clinic if things get bad.”

And I look at him. And a million shards of glass pierce my heart. That is the problem here with society.

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