What I Need To Say

I just want to let everyone know about my current situation, a situation that has lasted some three years, and has left me somewhat drained. I have been struggling bitterly with, as some of you may know, Bipolar I, and, the comorbid illness of Generalized Anxiety Disorder coupled with a self-diagnosis (due to my incessant drug use, I have been unable to be clinically diagnosed) with Borderline Personality disorder. This along with rampant substance abuse, has been, in essence, small, paid-installments to a suicide I’m too scared to commit. In 2013, when I ingested a poison known as Dextromethorphan, it sent me into a thirty-two-day psychosis with consequences I still feel today. As fate will have it, I found out the most difficult way that the drugs were just a Band-Aid, a temporary fix for a permanent problem, but the over-the-counter cough medicine was the catalyst to my Bipolar – to my demise, or so it still seems. After that infamous, tempestuous summer where I spoke to Bill Gates, thought I was Jesus, ran like a maniac in the sultriness of July, things only seemed to further fall apart. As the months went on, my condition only got worse; it is chronic, progressive, and ultimately fatal: psychological disorders are like the cancers of the mind. I got to the point where I loved everyone but me and only drugs, sex, or music could fill these empty spaces within myself. It was, and has, been an awful road to have found myself on: one consisting of numerous overdoses, car crashes, and a hand full of suicide attempts. And all the while, I became everything I never wanted to be: a master of manipulation; I could intellectualize any event, and then, use circumlocution to escape any sort of backlash. In short, I became, in more ways than one, a wretched animal who thrives upon sucking the life out of everyone else – but – I wasn’t always this way. The drugs simply accentuated my symptoms making me vulnerable, alone, and more miserable than normal. The past three, going on, four years has been a literal hell; where No Exit implies hell is other people, for me, it became that hell is being conscious of myself – just existing was enough. I became delicately in love with the “comfort of being sad…” because when you’re already at wit’s end, the end of your rope, there is no fall – no pain, no let-down. So for the last couple years, I have been plagued by this greyscale dysphoria which comforted me when all the people who would have been there for me where gone because I pushed them away with the rising and falling idealization and devaluation. The social anxiety, drug abuse, mood swings, depression, so on and so forth, pushed me to the point of surrender where I nearly applied for disability (as if being lazy AND disabled would soothe my spirits). Everything in my life has been, and is still, rocky and chaotic: the interpersonal relationships, jobs, perception of self-identity and the like. I just want to be forthcoming with everyone who may not know, the nine-tenths who won’t care, and the one-tenth who most cares about me ten-fold. “Life ain’t no crystal stair…”, but I am trying and trying to beat this, otherwise it will surely kill me, if I don’t beat it to it first. This last hospital stay was from May 28th-Jun 17th, and I ended up their after hard drink and fierce acid; never before had I been so close to being never forevermore. I am grateful to be alive now. And to those simply southern girls who write so in depth about “painful social anxiety”, depression, etc (not their apparent shallowness), you have not the slightest idea about existential nihilism, debilitating anxiety, and worldly depression: you wouldn’t understand not being able to walk into a movie theater because there’s too many people; running to the bathroom to escape socializing; obsessing to calm inner anxiety; unrealistic need to always be on time or early (if not, walking in late is like being run over by a train); always wanting to talk to people, but being too anxious to approach them; thinking so much and having so much anxiety that in a social situation it results in sexual mishaps, awkwardness (resulting in isolation), and anger outburst; being so sad that life is meaningless; being so lonesome, even with people around; or depression being so bad, and so enduring, that happiness is foreign to you. There’s people in this world who are truly in psychological and emotional pain, a pain so great that living is really just dying moment by moment; I am determined to live despite the travesty of the years gone by, and I hope you will all understand why I have been such a basket case; a cruel, heartless, sensitive and fragile human being who is only as brilliant as his immaculate destruction – if you haven’t been there, even the universal empathy will turn into the eternal apathy…

2 thoughts on “What I Need To Say

  1. Well. That was brutally honest. I have one small piece of advice. Do with it what you will. Try a gluten-free diet, or at least get tested for celiac disease (and go gluten-free whether the test is positive or not). Many studies have shown that gluten worsens psychological issues. You see, if gluten, which is a protein, is not properly digested in the small intestine (and no human being can completely digest gluten, breaking it down to individual amino acids), these bits of protein will get into the bloodstream, where it will travel to other organs and wreak havoc. For some people, the skin is affected; for others, it’s the reproductive system; for many, the brain and/or nervous system. No, you likely haven’t heard of this from a doctor. They tend to be blissfully ignorant about such things, looking instead for something they can treat with a pill. I highly recommend the book “Dangerous Grains” by James Braly and Ron Hoggan. You may also want to try googling “gluten anxiety depression.”

    Oh, and one more thing: those of us who believe in God believe that the emptiness in one’s soul can only be filled by Him. If you haven’t tried prayer (even a simple, “God, please help me.”), you may want to give it a go. I wish you the best.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Having never been there, I have no advice to offer. I simply hope that you win your battle and come out of it as close to healed as possible. I don’t think anyone is ever 100% (I know I’m not), but I’m confident you’ll get close

    Liked by 1 person

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