Being pulled from reality pt 2

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Falling into the abyss. Darkness over takes me pulling the breath from my lips and sucking my lungs dry. Around me life is being drained from the living to give to the dead so they rise again. A cycle of unforgiving light. 

I fall with my back toward whatever direction I’m going – am I falling up? Everything seems to be getting smaller – but if I’m falling down maybe I’m looking up? It’s all dark anyways. Light dots and darkness dots begin to penetrate my eyes. I can only feel my body – falling falling into a never ending cycle. Never reaching terminal velosity. It just keeps on pulling me sucking the breath out of me, yet I still can breath – or am I? Have I died already? I feel my body, but the darkness is to dark to see if I’m actually still in it. 

Infinite darkness in each and every infinite piece of gathering darkness. But in that darkness light also exists. Between each dark spot there is a source of light. I need to fall into one of those. Smaller than an atom I have to fit or I perish. Would it matter if I did? So I turn towards what’s pulling me. A light. I see it. I dive. Straighten my legs and arms close into my body – but if there’s light why can’t I see my body? Never mind that, I need to focus. What does this light bring me? Why is it pulling me? I’ll fight to survive. 

I never get any closer but I’m still heading towards the light. Why do I not feel the sit being pushed around me? How do I know that I’m falling? 

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. 

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…

Less IS More

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This can be taken in a multitude of different ways, such as friends I would much more rather have QUALITY over quantity. Or materials, because I have not become attached to materials anymore I appreciate the things I do have much more even though there is less I feel more full. Take a moment and really feel what this could be speaking to you-you might need to lessen something in your life to make room for higher personal growth 🙂 ❤

I would wish you luck; but in truth I believe that is the energy you put into your positive thoughts that transform to positive actions that reflect positive karma that make our day good, so instead think happy thoughts today and every day of your life, even in bad situations bc your thoughts will change any perception.

I have to…

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I wanna be strong to show everyone how stupid they were for fucking me over… And to show people that told me I couldn’t do it that my they were wrong about me. To prove to myself and then that I am a strong, independent woman and I don’t need a man to live. Because I will believe in myself ! I CAN do this!

I will finish school and get a career. I will not let people’s movements get in my way because I believe in myself enough that I don’t need to please or always be there for someone because they will never always be there for me.

I use to be upset at my boyfriends and my soon to be ex husband for not giving me enough attention or caring for me when I needed them the most. But now, I see that I can only be there for myself always. No one is better suited to help me than myself and with the right support from others I can make it. But I am not going to rely on them because I need to rely on myself but friends should be there in your life too. I just have to balance myself.

I have to believe in myself
I have to love myself
I have to know that I am strong and independent
I have to care for others but make sure that I take care if myself first so I can better take care if them

I can do these things and the universe will help me as long as I help myself because positive persistence will overcome all battles that the world makes me fight.