My whole life I have been on the defense. At any given moment, I have been ready to go to war. When I feel any sort of threat to to my love, home, heart, work or progress I attack before I can be attacked. I become this huge black mass of feathers ready to consume the entire world with my super scary act. But it’s all an act. It’s really just rooted in my deep fears that I have grown up with. That with years of self abuse I have futhur embedded them in the core of my soul.
I really did think just a few short months ago, that I was doing better. I was so happy all the time. I was so excited for my future, and I was finally feeling like I was healing from my past. I felt annoying for the most part because I was so in shock by all the cool things happening – that I was stuck on repeat.
Like your favourite song of the day, week, month or even year. You play it over and over again. In the car. On your headphones. Even in your mind when you are sitting listening to the sounds of absolutely nothing but the thump of your own heart somehow tapping the inside of your ear drum. The song never gets old, to the person who has chosen it as a favorite. For all the other people that have been blessed to listen to it over and over as well, it becomes their least favorite. That’s what my excitement sometimes feels like.
I felt like I was changing for a bit there. I could feel myself growing and becoming an adult by all the decisions I was making for my life.
But the last week proved to me that I am still a stunted teenager. That my mind really has alot of growing to do. That my mental health issues are way worse than I thought they were. I need to put in more work, every single day. I need to maintain this feeling that I am feeling right now. I feel well. I feel happy. Accomplished. Brave. Strong. I am willing to do anything to keep it that way.
But when I crash, things are really bad. I didn’t want to drink last week. That was the last thing I wanted to do. But I don’t want to upset or worry anyone, but this needs to be said. Because this is the reality of mental illness.
I actually wanted to die. I felt this horrible darkness just taking me over. It wanted me gone. It wanted me to cease to exist.
This is absurd!!! How could someone who has come so far, who has lived and fought against all odds – feel this way? It didn’t make sense to me. But I didn’t want to live anymore. I was just tired. So exhausted. And my crashes are not like a normal persons crash. Mine are explosive and extremely hazardous to be in the crosshairs of.
So this feeling went on for a few days. I couldn’t shake it. So instead of suffer, I decided to share it. With my fellows. And I found myself begging for help. I found myself just broken and empty.
But not enough to drink.
Later in the day an old friend contacted me and she wanted to stop by my brother’s grave. The brother that was lost to suicide. This was a strange turn of events because I haven’t even been in contact with this friend for months, and she had no idea what was going on with me. She told me she had a gift from my lost brother, to give to his new neice that he never got to live to meet. Which was also weird because my brother was just thinking about him the day prior.
So here my brother is speaking from the grave. And I know he understands. But I also know that I am the master of my own feelings. I am the only one that can make the decision to stay sick or get better. I decide how I am going to face the day ahead.
And I’m really trying now. I want to flourish. I want to not just live – but live well.
In order to be brave – I need to start acting brave again.
Becoming Brave 