Papers to Describe Me

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He gave me two stacks of paper. This man in a white coat holds the power to label my insanity. He tells me to go back to my room and read them to see which one I thought discribed me better… how am I supposed to know? He’s the doctor anyway. I held in my hands this banquet of words lined perfectly with pictures of sad women and men, looking out of a window trying to escape their mind, when I feel all they really want is to escape slavery. 

I gentlely grip the papers as he continues to speak to me in mindless words that seem to be a manuscript for all the inpatients. I feel as though every smile ever expressed on my face is now falling with my down turned lips. The gravity of society, pulls them away from the gentle crows feet wrinkles from my eyes that I so willingly expressed as a child. Running through the woods singing with the birds and absorbing all the suns rays through the canopy. As I breath in now to find I’m stuck with barred windows and bolted doors and I wish I could be free. 

Not just free from this prison of “sanity”, by this cookie cutter of humans this medication turns me into. I don’t want to be normal. I want to live! I want to feel alive. Not the alive you get with an adrenaline rush the alive feeling that comes with being free to choose, without laws and regulations. I feel like I knew that time. I feel like I still know. Like I’m waiting for a ship to become visible to take me away to my real home. 

Yet, I sit in this seat across this man telling me what I am, not who I am, in this description of how people should act in this society. Fuck that. 

Rage begins to boil inside my being. I want to reach across the room and rip the man apart who talks in a monotone voice, with no reason, about who he thinks I am. I want to scream and tell him to shut the fuck up, to ask him if he even knows he’s being a conformist to a “man” who no one sees. 

All my muscles relax before I show him my rage and I’m stuck in this hole longer than I’m gifted. My whole body relaxes, it’s like poison running through my veins paralyzingly me, burning holes and leaking my life force out into my muscles. They want so badly to contract, but my brain shuts out the will to move. I’m frozen with anger. I’m frozen to society’s grip on me. 

I finally hear something that’s like “you’re free to go”. Free?! How is going back out of your office into a hall wall with other locked rooms free?  Unlike some of the patients here I am not threatening enough to be in a straight jacket, but this level of the building I don’t think anyone is straight jacketed. 

One person I remember screaming and yelling one night. I feared he would come into my room, hurt me. Rape me. My mind wandered to the possibilities of what he could do before any of the nurses could get to him, and even if they could, would they be able to stop him? Panic filled me with escape routes. I couldn’t escape. Illogical imagination  filled my head with what would happen. The next day I wake up with no recollection of ever falling asleep. What happened to him? To me? What is this place? He wasn’t anywhere to be seen in any of the groups or therapies. And as my mind wonders it becomes unrealistic. 

They took him away to the lower level below ground where no screams can be heard and they practice illegal treatments to reduce rage in “the rebellious” for the coming when we all uprise against “the man” and take back our Mother…

Okay I’m laying down again. But as I lay in my bed the papers are still in my hand unaware until now. I sit up again. My memory of this is fogged. I feel as though I’m locked in a room filled with a single light to give me a dimmed view of the words. I’m locked in a cell with no way to see, hear or speak to the outside world. I’m confined to a lonely chair with a Lonely table. Cold Shackles cross my arms and feet. I can’t move till I finish these nonsensical paragraphs of who I am being labeled as. He wants me to tell him later which stack of paper describes me the best, as I believe I am. 

As I read these papers I’m filled with the belief I am those things.  I’m a “borderline” I have PTSD. Both of them fit who I am, what makes me. The chain breaks and I am released back into my room. I believe what he says. 
There’s therapy session after therapy session, and after those; groups and things to learn to put in our tool box to fit into society better. 

I walk out of my room. Groups and therapy are mandatory your first inpatient visit. I slump, head down, defeated. Shoulders turned inward. I hated this place even more. My child inside kicks and screams as I repressed her; she cries to be set free. To rebel. I silence her. She can not live here. 

Being Pulled From Reality

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Time seems to be speeding up as I will soon face plant into a brick wall, then continue on through it. It feels like falling but without reaching terminal velosity.

When you fall normally, it feels as though you are leaving the place in which you stood. You’re being separated from the stable ground to the dyer attempts to stand again. You fall to your side with a heavy head to plunge face forward. You normally don’t feel the pull of the gravity that pulls you from where you stood. You think of loosing your balance and simply falling fretfully but here I was pulled from stability. 

A while ago when I lived on the west coast of USA, I turned into someone I fear to this day. A woman that didn’t take life seriously, who would rather die than to face reality. 

As the moon rose in the sky and her face pressed against the push of wind from the rawring ocean, her tears went dry as did her mind. Numb and alone. Hair follicules stood at attention to the push off the winter wind.  Waves crashed onto the beach and surrounding rocks; she stepped forward. Her mind blank and focused, she smelled the salty condensed air of the Pacific Ocean, the moonlight tinkling the waves as they ricocheted off the large rocks, she continued forward. Into the freezing ocean she walked, she felt her boots fill up with thickening desire. Initializing shock from the water, her body made the attempt to stay warm and shiver but her mind refused to shake. Like the sinking titanic, water began to rise with no possible outlet. Her mind was her sinking ship, why not have a body to fit? 

Unsteadily she tripped over coral reefs towards the towering rocks filling her jacket with a salty calm, her eyes fixed on the Boulder ahead. With her feet numb, she forced herself up on the neighboring boulder. She rose out of the sea while the tide came in violently crashing onto her rock. The darkness did not show her the space between the rock and her target boulder and she slipped between them. Her throat filling with ocean and the waves pouring on top of her. She grasped for the rock and slowly climbed. The cold rock stealing the little warmth from her body through her hands, she reached the top. Shivering from the short journey she looked down around her at the waves growing to pull her into their home. To make her one with the sea at last. They cheered for her bravery, the ocean audience grew louder as her decision was made final. 

She closed her eyes and swayed with the wind remembering all her desires scuba diving to be one with the sea. She smiled at those memories to be put to sleep. Even more memories came penetrating her thoughts of warmth with clouded skies and black cold. She quickly opened her eyes yet the darkness sourrounded her. That darkness of cold and of skies. The numbing darkness she felt when she began.

She looked out past the crashing waves onto the horizon where calm overtook her. She paused and for the first time felt relief. Beyond the crashing of the waves and the push of violent, cold winds, she saw peace. She saw a glimmer of hope. But again looking down the waves calling to her; just one step they said as they sprayed there cold welcoming onto her face. Just one slip and you’ll be home. 
She looked out again now conflicted with hope and desire. A hope for calm, and a desire for a peaceful end. But how peaceful would that end be? Being pushed into rocks until she fell unconscious only to wake up to her choking on her decision to go down with no way out – a divers worse fear. She turned for the first time and looked back toward the beach. Her stomach was uneasy. Her boots squished as she adjusted her weight from one foot to the other, a cold shiver went up her spine. She closed her eyes tight. She had lost her mind. 

Reminders

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I have to keep reminding myself. I overcame alot. I can do this. I don’t need any more help besides my own. I can do this. When I feel like failing I have to remember that a knife won’t help me. Seeing my body won’t allow me to heal. It’s me wanting my insides outside. It’s a physical way to express something inside needs help. I need to reflect and allow whatever emotions out. I need to let myself be not afraid.

It’s because I’m afraid of the person I am inside. I’m a good person full of love and hope. Every time I’m conflicted I have to remember my life is reason enough to live. Life is my present to myself to heal my soul. Healing crisis.

I got a trager massage and did zero balancing…. I think I’m getting after effects of it. This healing crisis that follows wasn’t bad until 4 days later… Why is that? Did I loose my insight of reflection to give !myself? How can I allow myself and my inner emotions out? I need to find my way. I feel like what I’m doing is pointless… Like this life is pointless I don’t understand why I have to submit to others. I want to be as free as a molecule in outer space and be free floating. Always giving and combining with others to help a greater cause… I don’t feel like I’m contributing enough….

I don’t know really. Just this…

Dreams

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Why do I keep having dreams? It makes me so tired to have them. I’m supposed to be resting, sleeping, but here I am waking up so tired and beat – mentally. I don’t like dreaming these things. of wolves and my ex… why does he have to come in there and tell me he misses me? is that my mind telling me I miss him? Do I? I guess I miss his care, his protective nature. but still it wears me out. I understand brain, now leave me alone.

I often think that I should go back on my meds. My anxiety meds or my anti-depressants… IDK why I went off them, oh yea someone told me I shouldn’t be on them due to the fact that they are bad for my brain… but what if I’m bad for my body? I’ve been having bad thoughts again… not to the extent of suicidal, although it may cross my mind from time to time, but maybe more so that I want protection from myself, I am afraid of my own mind. I need to release myself and be free, but how? How can I when I’m surrounded with hate, why do we need to work? the stress of the world burdens me. I feel like I carry it all on my shoulders… I’m going on, rambling not making any sense, what am I to do? where am I meant to be? I keep thinking this is it, this is where I’m meant to be, but what about when school is over? do I like the protection that school offers me away from the “real world”? I don’t have obligations to tell me where and what I am supposed to be/do…. Maybe I can figure this out. I’m so up-tight with myself. I need to release, let go relax… something.. bc I’m not doing a very good job with myself.

Work and Fear

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So as I mess up, which seems to be on a weekly bases, I find it very hard to stay stable. I am trying so hard to make myself better, and everything that I do, but I find trouble in messing up. It’s like for every good thing that happens, something else bad happens. I haven’t felt the urge to vut myself as badly as I did today… But I can’t people would see. I don’t want them to know I’m going through hard times. I don’t want them to know these vines in my mind keep crippling me and suffocating the life out of me. I break free every now and again.. but I feel like giving up and stopping the fight against this, what feels like a loosing war. I may win some battles, but am I winning the war? Am I just making my mind pretend that I am okay? is this life something that I do want to live? and as I write all this I feel silly, of course it is. But you see, the thing is I met someone. someone who makes me feel all the warm and fuzzies inside, someone who I feel I can trust, yet, I feel as though since I met them, I have been fighting myself even harder. Am I ready for this? Am I ready to be with someone again after only 6 months of being divorced? 5 months of finding myself and being spiritually in-tuned? It’s not worth sacrificing myself, yet I find that I want o be with this person all the time. Is it making me lose what I have gained so much?

for the first time in months, I threw up today.. the stress was overwhelming for me. I had to do something… this agony that I have been going through is rough. I want to cut, I want to strave, I want to binge and purge… but is it because I find that easier than facing reality? What this reality is made me to believe is real. I know this world is not real, I know that I am living in a dream state only to fight this “reality” but why do I have to be tormented, isn’t though I have found the way it works enough for it to stop? or am I subjected to fulfilling whatever life I am needing o fulfill here.

With this new person, comes new trust. Am I ready to trust someone again? is my doubt the energy that’s creating these mistakes? Why do I feel everything has to be perfect all the time, when nothing I give energy to is perfect…. why do I feel like I need to be hospitalized again? How could I even afford it? I couldn’t… this pain and anguish has been plaguing my mind.

I am finding out more about myself. Love is growth, and it is painful.. but why do we have to have these other emotions compacted into what growth should be? what did I do in another wolrd to receive such pain? did I volunteer this life so some else didn’t have to suffer?

I want to be the change in the world I want to see, but it’s hard when I’m blinded by doubt and fear.

I want to be a silent fairy, I want to be love, and healing, and passion, and compassion and life… I want to give to the earth. I want to be the change in the world. I don’t want these feelings of hate, self rage and the negative. I will be positive, I will be positive. I will be positive. Can’t I be skinny and positive at the same time?