I wrote this earlier and knew I wouldn’t post it right away. I knew this would go away. I know myself. I know my moods. I recognize when it’s dramatic and when it’s real, or when I’m just trying to escape myself, and when I’m trying to vent and when I’m seeking attention.
At 32 I still feel like a kid sometimes when I’m in these moments. I still feel like I’m hungry for the attention of bad behavior. I thought it was important to document these thoughts. They are often inside, buried as deep as I can bury them. I make certain no one sees this side of me so that I can keep up the appearance of semi-normality.
I’m not normal though. I’m often just in a trance waiting for the time I’m too exhausted to stay awake. That’s the time where relief comes. When I can dream without any consequences or repercussions. When I can be selfish and exist in a different reality without affecting anyone around me. When I can hold my kids and know they love me as much as I love them and I can keep it all inside for them so they have a better chance then I did. But sometimes they see it, and those thoughts get stronger. What am I doing to them? How broken are they already because of me?
So who am I protecting? Myself or them? Maybe I’m not protecting anyone. I’m certainly not doing any favors to reversing the stigma by hiding. So here I am in all my insanity I suppose…
Here are the warning signs -undisputed. Championing a life where you’re looking for an escape. You breathe out and wish you could collapse but you wont because you have bones and organs and you won’t stop breathing long enough to suffocate, and your stupid heart won’t quit beating. Somedays its hard to leave your bed, let alone your room, let alone walk down the stairs, let alone take a shower and get dressed, let alone make yourself food, let alone climb into your car and go about your day.
You want to be invisible, but you know invisibility has always been the problem. You want to swing from your neck, but you know that would destroy any chance your wife and kids have at forgetting you. You just get on with it. You’re way passed the realization that no amount of money, success, material, health, will ever fix it. You think running could do the trick, but you have to believe in it enough to move your legs. Believing isn’t easy when there aren’t enough reasons to keep you breathing. You are drowning in self doubt with the actual relief and completion of the water entering your lungs. So, you just move. You move. You move. What else can you do? You have no energy left but you zombie your way through the day.
Somedays you want to close your eyes until tomorrow comes and you can start over, hoping the fog fades enough that you can just stop thinking and doubting and worrying and panicking and being lost in paranoia and anxiety.
Those are the worst… Those days everything is fighting against itself and you have to constantly remind your brain that none of it matters. Those thoughts don’t matter. You have to just ignore the sounds and be distracted. Stop caring, and just go about your day or hide. On those days everything you see can be turned into some kind of excuse for why the world hates you, or why you’re alone or why your friends or family haven’t read any of this yet, or why if they have they haven’t acknowledged it, or if you ever had real friends to begin with.
We all just want to be with ourselves long enough to look in a mirror and be in awe of who we are, and so noticing the world around us isn’t our main priority, and if that is the case, then why can’t you look in the mirror and see anything at all? Why are you so in hate with your reflection? Why do you have to rely on strangers to reach out? Why are your screams for help so quiet? Maybe you are such an awful, horrible human, that you don’t deserve to be saved. You have no worth.
Then you realize only you can save yourself. Hoping someone sees the breadcrumbs or whispering screams is pointless. “Either say it out loud or save yourself,” you say “but you don’t deserve to be saved anyway.” There’s that doubt again… Reaching out of any kind won’t help. Then you wonder if maybe no one ever reached out like they should have or in the right way (what’s the right way?). Then you wonder why you think its anyone’s job to reach out in the first place. Shouldn’t you be the one to ask for help? Why are you waiting for someone to ask you if you’re ok? Why can’t you stop all those conflicting thoughts and just be normal? Why can’t you just think happy thoughts and be positive and make it stop? Why is this your version of normal? Are you just feeling sorry for yourself? Stop being such a complainer. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This is what your head looks like? Jesus.
And you know as soon as you publish this, someone will find you, and you’ll feel contempt that it took this long, and that you had to ask, and that no one read the signs or saw the hints or heard the pain you felt that seemed so obvious to you, and you know it’s ridiculous that you’re pointing finger’s, but you feel it with conviction and you hate it all. And as you write that sentence you know you’ve just pushed them all away. So, you sit in confusion wondering what it is you fucking want and why your brain can’t make up its mind. What do you want?!
…I want to snap my fingers and never have existed. I want to go away and leave no mark. I want to disappear as if my name never made a sound. I want to never have been born at all.