I'm feeling misplaced. Like I'm supposed to be somewhere I can't remember, like I'm supposed to do something, be something that I cannot become, have something I cannot retrieve. I feel so lost. Wandering, echoing like a shadow in the distance. Floating, detached, lonely. I don't feel like myself at all. Where am I? Who am I?
How much better am I really? I can't tell what's real anymore, I still can't differ dream from reality, am I dreaming? Maybe it's not my dreams that are so real, but my reality that is so dream-like. I can't put my feet down, it's like I can't feel the earth no matter how far down I try to reach. Do you ever get that feeling, like you're so detached you've forgotten how to re-attach yourself?
I wonder. Am I happy somewhere inside, am I really gonna give life a chance? Yes, to the latter. But I don't know how. I know what I need to do but I just can't. Can't, can't, can't, can't. I'm so scared I don't know what I should do. What would be right, should I try to hold on without help? I can't keep this up much longer. If I don't act, I'm afraid I'll fall apart again.
But that's the thing: I know I have to fall apart again, really hard, for the doctors to take me seriously, for them to understand how fucking serious this is. And I'm depending on their understanding, I always have been. I'm depending on their opinion because how else are they gonna help me? But I'm afraid it will be too late by then.
That I know I will need to stress myself enough to trigger a psychotic episode, get into the emergency psychiatric ward again and then get some sort of diagnosis and help. It's a sick world we live in, believe me, but I do know the psychiatric system pretty well by now. I've been involved in it for ten years after all. I know that is the only way, to let them see it with their own eyes.
When that day comes, whenever that will be. I have a sensation that it will be sooner than I can wait. I don't think I'll die from it though. No, what I fear is worse than death. Death would be freeing, a solution to an endless problem. What I fear is imprisonment in my own mind. That I will make it worse by not getting any treatment for it. It started already about a year ago, (not counting in Anna) and though I have been feeling fine in longer periods of time, it has struck me out of the blue several times and I just had to pretend it was just anxiety, worry, too many "thoughts" (yes, read voices) and that my actions were self harm alone.
Cause it wasn't, you know. I have come to my doctor saying I have anxiety when I was delusional and fearful of things that weren't there. I have harmed myself to get rid off bugs crawling under my skin, worms in my eyes and mysterious tingling feelings allover my body. I told people that my head was filled with more thoughts than usual when it was voices I was hearing. Even in a meeting I had to bite my lips hard to not scream at the voices to shut the fuck up because I couldn't hear what my doctor was saying.
Desperately popping more pills in an attempt to control all those things, thinking more anxiolytics could control my fear of the scary unknown territory of my own mind. My head hurts like hell, I can't stop chain smoking and I just took some Zyprexa. But does it help? Well, it does sometimes, for a little while. Zyprexa is also an antipsychotic medication, I can't do much else than hoping it has some effect on my ghosts. Shit, I really need to get to a doctor... hopefully I can hold on until June, it's not so long after all, just a few weeks...
No comments:
Post a Comment