I’m losing it. I must be. It was my ‘good’ week and it has ended in tears once again. I think back over today and put it on replay. The early composure, the conscientious perfectionist that thrives on control and outcomes. I felt so ‘above it’ all. Like I’m walking on the highest of clouds, skipping from one to the next. Sorting them all, supporting them all, aligning them just so. Think about everything but how you feel. The thoughts run so fast it’s hard to keep up. So hard in fact that I miss patches. “Did I put my keys here?” I don’t remember finishing that drink, but I must have because it’s empty. Weird. Now why did I walk in this room?
The frustration builds. I’m so savvy tho that I recognize it and go for a skill to bring that down a little. I can bring it down enough to face the music and continue on my charade.
I listen to a guest speaker talk about her mental illness and ability to hold a full time job, and shine in her other performance job. I am jealous. I didn’t realize that till right now as I wrote it.
I’m sad and I’m jealous.
I want to be authentic and not have to hide my health struggle. I want that support. I wish to be able to have my calming piano music in my ear without worrying about losing my job.
It’s so stressful trying to hide mental illness. It’s so heartbreaking when you don’t want to hide it but fear, yes fear what happens when you if you don’t.
At the time I wiped away the tears and reassured my boss I was ok to go and present. I would have been if everyone had been nice and cooperative. It was unexpected that they weren’t, and I had to leave the room.
I managed to gain recomposure again and go back and deliver the next 55mins.
The result is exhaustion. And more tears. Tears that fall with defeating thoughts. Tears that seem to fall for unexplained reasons, in the middle of random places.
Drip, roll, drip roll……
And again. Over and over.
So now I’m seriously considering going back on my medication.
Or seriously considering writing a note.
When I was suicidal in the past, it had never occurred to me to rent a hotel room. My mind goes there now.
What if, instead of doing work and releasing stress by catching up, I just leave altogether?
I would hate for someone to have to find me. I could perhaps write a note and stick it on the outside of the door at the last lucid moment.
“Please do not come in this room but call emergency services. I have committed suicide and would prefer only paramedics to deal with my body”
Or pre-record a message and call when it’s too late?
I would ruin my children’s lives. Forever. I wouldn’t just be killing myself but my family too. Their lives would never be the same. No, I cannot do this to them.
So I binge and purge, and this makes me feel better for now. That’s twice in 2 weeks. Another slip. For now, I fall asleep and nap and I feel a little relieved.
Try not to think of the purge as feeling better…. That behaviour will just get more frequent and before I know it I’ll be relapsing.
I can’t have that. I can’t deal with that again.
Keep positive, keep perspective. Keep swimming.
Just keep. For now. Just keep.