The last 7 days have been tortuous. I’ve found myself locked in a mental prison and have found no way of escaping, despite banging on the bars until my hands were red raw. I don’t know how to overcome this pain, as it feels like this prison only offers up life with no parole as its sentence.
This isn’t related to not being in work at the moment due to redundancy, although admittedly that has taken away my support group. In fact the first week or so after finishing work I was absolutely fine. I had started a creative writing course, was going to some career workshops, and met a couple of friends for a catch up. Like the flicking of a switch it all turned on its head a week ago, and ever since I have been racked with guilt, hopelessness and feelings that the pain in my heart will never recede. The waves of anxiety and depression that sweep over me are like nausea, and while I try my best to distract my mind, this is only a temporary measure, and its not long before the thoughts have burrowed their way back in.
More than worrying about any pain I feel myself, I worry more that my illness isolates me from those people I care about, which is why I try so hard to garner and maintain friendships. Maybe too hard. I realise that being friends with someone with a mental illness is probably no fun, and my biggest fear is losing people because of it. Why would someone want to associate with someone who often cancels things last minute, who goes through low moods where they can barely communicate, and who constantly asks for reassurance. Why would someone want to stand by someone who can become obsessed and preoccupied by a few words uttered, reading into it all kinds of scenarios and meanings, with only the most disasterous ones being taken as the truth?
I’m directionless and bereft. I’m regretful of the past, and pessimistic of the future. I’m in a massive city and yet feel deeply alone. I feel jealous, yet ashamed, guilty, yet confused why, and wanting love, but incapable of grasping it.
This week is Mental Health Awareness week, and while attempting to combat this worldwide epidemic is a massive undertaking which is unlikely to be defeated in my lifetime, anyone can make a difference in the smallest way. If you know someone struggling, know that you can be make a difference, even if its just asking someone how they are. They will probably lie to you and say they are fine, but know that inside they are grateful to have been asked.
‘Cause I’d love to feel love but I can’t stand the rejection
I hide behind my jokes as a form of protection
I thought I was close but under further inspection
It seems I’ve been running in the wrong direction
The Wrong Direction – Passenger