I’m very hard on myself. That’s why I keep writing short things and deleting them and not publishing them because I create all these high expectations, even for a tiny blog post. I HAVE to be insightful and witty. And in trying so hard, I fail.
Hello Nessa, this is a personal little blog not a professional column. Get over your fucking self.
My text processing program managed to save something I wrote some days ago. It went like this.
Everytime I’m awake, the wave comes back. I’ve been keeping myself asleep for as long as I can. But when I open my eyes again, it hits me. It’s not a specific thought, or a specific pain. It’s like my entire mind aches. The entire universe is upside down and everywhere I see, there’s something else that hurts, until it gets overwhelming and I go mad.
And man I was mad for a while. I couldn’t be awake without feeling intense psychological pain. (There’s something in my mind right now, blocking me from remembering about that completely. I think I won’t push it.)
It all started because I was feeling a little bit better, around mid May, and this person emailed me, asking me if I was available to work with him for two weeks. I closed my eyes and said ‘Yes’, without being completely sure, not of my availability, but of my ability to work.
. . . But I have to do things differently! I have to try new things or my non-life will keep going on like this and I can’t take it anymore!
So I said Yes. I’ll post more details about it later. It was medical but I worked in logistics. It was volunteering, so, unpaid. Sometimes I had to work up to 16 hours a day.
How did I cope? I had full blown panic attacks every single day. My boss refused to let me go, even though I looked like I was about to jump off the building right then. Instead I was talked into breathing, calming down and going back to work. I was amazed it worked like that. Some days I even pushed the hours to socialize a little bit with the other volunteers (who probably thought I was a freak). Most people that worked with me were from the US and I loved being able to speak English outside the internet! It even occurred to me that I could go back to an active life after this…
Then I am not sure what happened. Things got worse. To finish it, I had the most horrible panic attack during the farewell party and escaped into the night (tried to). Someone found me crying on the stairs and helped me find a taxi and even paid for it (how lovely). So I got home safely but traumatized. Work was over so I had nothing else to go back to. I tried to rest thinking it’d get better. But mood got worse and worse. Brain turned into a torture machine. I buried myself. Got suicidal again. Started thinking about self harm even thought I’ve never done it, it seemed like I needed it. (I didn’t do it, though.)
The only thing I could do well was sleep. Sometimes during entire days just coming out of my dreams to eat a bit and talk to Corulain (this is the name I’ll use for my partner from now on), but I felt so guilty when talking to her. I could offer nothing but a friable brain. Like one tends to do in these moments, I thought the state would last forever.
But time went on and I’m doing ‘better’. More stable. Non suicidal. Again orbiting the black hole instead of inside it. It’s not a good place to be either. If only I could get very far away…