I was reading one of my other blogs from a few years ago, and couldn’t help but feel sorry for the person I used to be. Love finally made it into my life, and even though it is at a great cost, years ago I would have killed to just have had the opportunity to experience it. There was a post of mine called “The Dagger” in which I glorified what it would have been like to kill myself with a knife – needless to say it was a very dark time in my life.
Plunging in my heart. I am here again. Loving so hard and so fast that I want to die. Bipolar. Pills. Do I go to my psychiatrist and tell him to give me something else? Or do I fight through this? Feel it. All of it. I want to be taken. Off this Earth. It’s the same old story. So much pain. What is this? Why does it hurt so bad? Feel it. Feel all of it. Let it kill me. Let it consume me. Feel it. Like a dagger. Like a dagger.
Want to be better. Don’t want this. I am envious of people that don’t feel. Live life through their texting, Facebook, and laughter. Marriage, children, and careers, and I am left behind. Can I have all those things? Where am I in this life? 35 years, 10 years in total darkness. Sex, alcohol. Drowning in pills. Like a dagger. Time, sneaking up on me. Like a predator stalking me. Why does he have teeth? Why is he biting down upon me? Take me from this life. This hell. Do I find Jesus? Will he be my salvation if I turn to him? I am too far gone into my hell to find him. Like a dagger. Take me, aliens. Take me up, change my brain. Show me what I am capable of. Make me an artist. Make me something more than myself. I feel like nothing. Drowning. More pills. Bipolar. Fuck. Just take me and kill me.
Pretty deep huh?
Even though I have been feeling down in the dumps lately, my life is so much brighter today. I battle with my bipolar disorder and the highs and lows that come with it, but my medication is on point and my CPAP machine helps me with restful sleep. I do feel tired though, and I chalk it up to just being sick the past week. I am noticing that I am dramatizing my life a lot more than it is or it should be. Not everything is a meltdown, and not everything is a travesty.
Perseverance comes through the strength of the spirit, and I have just been spiritually sick these days. My trust in God has wavered, and I feel like I have been losing my way. I have to be vigilant in my fight against the Devil – he’s telling me that I am going to fail, he’s telling me I am ugly, and he’s telling me I will never see my husband again. My fault is I have been listening to these horrible thoughts in my head. We know we shouldn’t listen to that “voice,” but we do every time.
I am coming home to the realization that I am going to be okay. I may not have a high-powered career like I used to, and make all kinds of money like I did in New York, but maybe being a Peer Support Specialist won’t be a bad alternative. I go to this place called NC Works tomorrow to talk about what options I would have for a career since my mugshot is plastered all over the internet and no employer will ever hire me. There I go again, thinking extreme.
It’s a vicious cycle, isn’t it? How on Earth do we break it?
Faith. Perseverance. Strength. Hope.
Love for myself.