Tag Archives: mental illness

Depression as a woman

Imagine feeling empty, sad, hopeless, worthless, directionless and lost.

Anxious and panicky, sensitive to lights, sounds and casual words.

Couple that with monthly intense mood swings, tears that flow easily, body aches and exhaustion, need for sleep throughout the day, aching back and swollen breasts.

Now your emptiness and loneliness is heightened with the consistent flow of blood and unfertilised eggs.

My brain becomes a ticking alarm clock reminding me it’s time for my pill again.

Its choice of alarm tune?

The urge to pop handfuls of pills, to get knock out drunk, to do something, anything to mute the mind and feelings. She doesn’t scream at the back of my mind anymore, but her toxic breath fogs the brain in the meantime.

Up till I take that little pill and go to bed. Things are better when I wake up. But in between, there’s no guarantee what the subconscious will unleash on my sleeping mind.

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Cracked

Expulsion.

Dripping, pouring, exposed, leaking.

Dry, rough, ashy, cracked, tears and rips, lines and drags, pulling tight and wrapped.

Expand, pain, screams in my mind, deafening, clench and twisted cramp, twitch twitch.

Spark of anxiety, nausea, nerves, stiffen, swallow, restricted pipes. 

Grey fog slick, thin clogging layer, smog, clouded, broken veins, loose powders, sharp sting of young grapes, quick pumps pit pattering.

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Anxiety 

Jumping between sweet nostalgia and fear lumping in the throat. Panic at the thought of meeting up and connecting, talking and sharing, fear and inability to breathe, constricted throat, wife awake tight lungs.

Sadness, salty singular drops down one cheek and tiny cold winds spreading across the chest before they’re sacked back in or blown away

by the suffocating paralysing fear of connecting and communicating and potentially reconnecting. 

Hunched shoulders making the body small tiny invulnerable protected and hidden 

The fear is big and swallowing me whole starting from the blocked throat tempting me to drag in deep puffs of oxygen and revive the cruel paradox of survival instincts, reaching throughout my belly and soles leaving them knotted and cold, that chill that can not be touched between the layer of atoms preventing us from truly touching anything, forever apart and forbidden true contact with everything for all we feel is the repelling of atoms against ours so the love and touch we draw our comfort from is false. A lie. We are only feeling their repulsion their rejection.

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New log

I’ve been eating a ton, bingeing out because I can’t feel full. I want flavours and textures to exist within me, depth and beauty. So I eat, because it’s easier, better.

I’ve put on quite a bit of weight, I feel so heavy. But for once, I’m not disgusted, hurt, angry, sad, at a loss, looking at the double chin or pot belly

Stretch marks on my thighs. They’re fine.

It’s a little annoying not being able to fit into some of my tighter clothes. But I no longer freak out about the possibility of men not wanting me because of my body. I no longer base my worth as a human being on how well I fit into society’s standard of what size I should be.

I have a deal with a guy I’ve been dating casually. From Sunday on, clean eating, exercising every day, no junk food, more water. And at the end of my exams, we’ll need to have reached our individual goal weights and then we’ll go to a water park. Tbh, I still have remnants of wanting to be slim cause it’s “hotter”. Also, I really wanna be able to wear everything in my wardrobe, without worrying about buffalo wing arms, without being unable to zip up, without being unable to pull it off after pulling it on.

There are times when I still have bad days, and I can’t get out bed, where I cry over my ex, where I cancel my plans and flake on friends. It happens, with the BPD and the anxiety flaring and the rage rearing it’s ugly head, the depression weighing the clouds down. But with my medicine, the occasional mediation and yoga, the counselling, the self-awareness, but things are great these days. So so much better. I’m quite happy actually, and I’m excited again these days.

Laughing at shows, intrigued by sculpture class, wanting to take classes after I start work, having two interviews lined up this Monday and Wednesday (wish me luck), meeting up with friends and trusting them, also not feeling guilty and whorish for liking and having sex. Things are nice.

I do have moments of bingeing on food, alcohol, even sleeping pills, but I know I’m strong enough to overcome the impulsivity and lack of self-control.

I’m not excited about the future per se, and I’ve never been the type to be That excited anyways, but I am starting to have plans again, which means that I actually think it’s worth living for.

Peace,
Aziel

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Yea, I guess I’m ‘crazy’

Y’know that frustrating phrase people with mental illnesses always say?
“You don’t understand”
“You don’t get it”
“Nobody will ever understand me”

Or y’know how they seem to blame their mental illness for everything?
“I’m sorry for getting so mad, it’s one of the symptoms”
“I can’t stop thinking or worrying so much, it’s just something that happens”
“I just feel a lot okay, I don’t expect you to understand”

And y’know what else? The fact that you always have to coddle them.
“Why can’t you just listen and understand how I’m feeling?”
“This is just who I am, it’s part of me, I can’t change it!”
“I don’t care who knows, they need to accept it or leave”

I think the worst is how despite their ‘pride’, they want to keep it hush-hush.
“I can’t write it down, I’ll never get a job”
“Nah, they don’t need to know this. They don’t matter to me”
“I don’t want them to talk”

Yea it’s annoying, infuriating, sometimes a little pathetic.

But I don’t think you will ever understand, because I can’t understand.
I don’t know why I feel so much, so deeply; how did it come about; why is it here to stay.

I’m trying to make you understand that I don’t want all these to happen. I know how crazy, stupid, ridiculous these behaviours seem, trust me, I want them to end.

It’s here to stay though, so no matter how much I love and need you, I’ll rather warn you first so you have a chance to escape it. I can’t, but you can.

To think this private internal mess that I can’t control, can’t understand, can’t predict, is the very same mess that once publicly known will be my own label;

brand me a leper

I don’t know why it’s happening, believe me, I want to be normal

But I can’t.

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The screaming is back

The screaming is back.
At the back.
Like a rod thrust through one ear,
Dragging through the nape of my fears,
Burst forth the other drum.

Constantly screaming,
More tactile today, more raw,
It hurts my ears and strains my head.

It’s too quiet out here.
Guess that’s why the screaming started up.
Too soft outside, gotta create noises somewhere.
Better than hearing my realisation
Of the need for love and affection.

So empty, how do I fix it?
Need love, so how do I love myself?
And commence screams.
So how do I stop the screaming.
Who is screaming, who’s there?

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Lexapro – 5mg

I know it’s there
This leaking ball in my chest
creates a scrunching of my face
But tears don’t fall.

Can’t sleep can’t wake,
some days can’t get out of bed.
Inhale the food
Exhale the unproductivity.

Some days it’s the screaming in my head,
and it’s not the jumble of words and thoughts that become an unbearable noise,
it’s not even mentally imagining yourself screaming because you can mentally run out of air.
It’s just a perpetually high-pitched scream that lives at the back of my head and makes it impossible to concentrate on anything and everything and it heightens the anxiety and worry because why the fuck is there a screaming in my head?

Other days it’s like a really heavy pullover because it’s all over you and makes your whole being heavy.
Not an easily removable zipper hoodie. A zipper-less pullover with a tight collar.
Because part of you feels like you can remove it anytime but you’re just choosing not to because it’s too much effort.
Then you try to remove it, and you can’t, cause the collar is too small and now you’re kinda stuck with it.
So you make do and just lie in bed and try not to think about it.

Today it’s this weird… blob of sadness just lying there in my chest.
Not heavy really, just, kinda like water in outer space.
There’s a semblance of a shape but it’s all blobby and looks like its malleable but you can’t touch it or control it.
It’s just there and I feel sad but also a strange disconnect between what I want to do which is to cry, my brain is telling me so and my body feels like doing it, but I can’t and I also don’t have that wham of emotions that allow the tears to flow and the nose to get sore.

I see the effects of the past two weeks on my body. I’ve a bigger belly and thicker arms from all the eating.
Constantly eating to fill the emptiness up, and my stomach is never full and I need to do mindless things because work is too stressful and I can’t deal with it but at the same time there’s not enough work and I just want to feel normal.

Then there are days where I feel like my old self again. Motivated even, excited, fun.
It’s not long before everything gets blank though.

I don’t know if this is a phase, or if I’m just acting the way I always do after breakups or if I’m just being dramatically self-indulgent. That’s one of the most frustrating aspects, the constant doubting of the self. I’ve always doubted myself and all my issues and reactions (doesn’t keep me from reacting, but I sure do a lot of self-hating and regretting after) but this is harder cause I don’t know if I’m just acting all of this through a really committed self-delusion, or if this is real.

That reminds me, the only two proper feelings I feel are sadness and anger. Sure there’s the happiness with talking to Matthew some days or with Caris or Belle but generally it’s… more like I’m reacting in a manner that I’ve learnt to recognise is how I behave when I’m happy. So it might seem to feel like happiness, but I don’t really feel it per se. I feel the reactions I have when showing happiness and politeness and laughter and comfort… But I also have pretty crazy mood swings recently, with really excited highs and then long periods of lows. Can’t go to work or school or even shower or leave the room lows. Get angry and sad easily and lash out and then the next day, almost back to normal me, then the low sinks in.

I look at the clock every night and feel a dread. With the night comes the inability to sleep, and the inability to wake up tomorrow. The dread of having to wake up and live life, to go out and have to do what needs to be done, places to go and work to complete. The dread of feeling the loneliness strongest as the night grows quiet and all are safely in their dreams and beds but I’m here fearing sleep.

So I don’t feel but I also swing really hard with the emotions. It’s a fucking mess and I’m so confused, do I not feel or do I feel too much. What is happening with me, what is wrong with me, do I need a new diagnosis?

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