I always said that on here I’d be honest. So, here it goes. This morning, after a rough night, I got up around 6:00 am, had breakfast and then went back to bed. I did fall asleep for a little while. But I hid in the darkness of my room for probably… at least 7 hours today. Until around 5:30 p.m. when I got my butt out of bed. The only reason I would get up was to get water or go to the bathroom. I had no desire to do anything but watch a show I have seen a thousand times on Netflix. My mind was in overdrive and yet I couldn’t collect my thoughts. I stared aimlessly at the ceiling fan and then realized that I’m exhausted.
Emotionally, physically, mentally.
Tired of crying.
Tired of receiving bad news.
Tired of hearing of someone I know, or someone I love passing away.
Tired of having my heart broken.
Tired of trying to keep it together.
I’m afraid if I start crying the tears just won’t stop. That it would be an endless stream that I wouldn’t even bother to wipe away.
I’ve felt so much hurt this year. Like cut to the core, rip your heart out stuff. And I don’t know how much worse or heartbreaking news I can take. When will it stop?
I wish I could be in a better mood right now. I wish that every time the phone rings my heart doesn’t stop. I wish this weight I’m carrying around would ease up.
I always say that there is someone who will listen when you want to talk. But this is where I am personally struggling right now. With everything else going on in the world, who would listen to me? (I know that this is my anxiety talking)
I’m going to be vulnerable now, with sharing how my anxiety talks to me and impacts me.
It tells me that the person I texted and didn’t get a text back, doesn’t like me.
It tells me that no one wants to listen to my triumphs, wins, loses or problems.
It tells me I’m going to be alone forever.
It tells me that I shouldn’t have done this or should have done that instead.
It is the constant, never ending “what if”.
It is me sitting on the floor in front of my closet, crying because I do not know what to wear.
It is the constant need to feel prepared. For what you may ask? EVERYTHING. (How someone does that I don’t even know)
Living with mental illness(es) gets lonely even when you’re on the right medication and you’re exercising. Even when you’re eating healthy and doing all the things you are supposed to be doing. Even when you’re working on becoming the best version of yourself. Because your illness wants to be in control. It takes your fears and feeds on them. Making them into this bigger problem that wasn’t actually a problem in the first place. It wants to isolate you; it wants to consume you. If I am being honest, I wrote out a couple of texts to send to different friends today, and then deleted them because I didn’t want to risk someone not answering, or a conversation not going well. I can’t deal with any sort of rejection right now. One more crack could make me come tumbling down. I dislike the fact that my own mind wants me to catastrophize everything. I dislike that it wants to take my comfort and confidence away. I dislike that I have to do this every single day.
But I have no other choice. I need to keep going. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. No matter how many “bad brain” days I have. No matter how many times I may have to start over. No matter how many times I cry myself to sleep at night. I have to keep going.
Because I want the life I know I deserve.