So, I’ll be honest, it’s been a long time since I’ve written here. It’s not that I didn’t want to write or share what’s going on; it’s just that so much has happened since I last wrote anything. I wrote another draft of this coming back post, but I don’t want to hide behind flowery imagery or beat you over the head with how I’ve suffered. I don’t want that to be me anymore, I don’t want to just be someone that is writing to write something darkly beautiful, I want to tell you the truth, in all its ugly glory. So let me tell you where I’m at.
I haven’t been doing well this past month. I was enjoying a good few months where things seemed to be just going up. I had things going on in my life, and I was making positive steps toward ending this nearly year-long phase of mental health treatment. This disease, this demon I carry in me, decided otherwise.
I think in all of my writing, I’ve done plenty to describe what it feels like to lose your mind; I’ve written so much about the pain. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’m not in pain right now, I’m suffering some of the worst I have in months. Every night is horrible and I lose control. Like clockwork, every night it feels like a stone is crushing my chest and everything becomes so intense, every emotional dial is at eleven. Sadness feels like I’m drowning in an ocean of my own tears, the loneliness feels like I am in a dark room that I will never escape, and the regret feels like someone is driving a dagger into my heart. I lose my mind.
The voices have come back, and they’re getting louder. I cannot describe to you how intense the desire to hurt myself gets, which is already crazy enough to try to explain to people that normally avoid pain and injury. There are nights that I just want to give up, that I pray to G-d to just let this be the last night I have to endure all of this. All of this pain and misery and madness experienced alone in this tiny room I am typing in, not wanting to bother anyone else as I slowly lose my mind again one night at a time.
The crazy thing is that the days are fine. I can function, hell, I can thrive. I can laugh. I can work out. I can help others. I can have hope. My life is split between these times of progress and madness. It’s getting worse every day, but somehow I still wake up as if I’ve respawned after a night in the madhouse.
I’m afraid that maybe I’m never going to get better, that I will always have this demon on my back, these voices in my head, this darkness within me. I’m afraid that I’ll never have the life I imagined for myself as a younger man. I’m afraid that I will always be a slave to this disease.
I spoke about this with my therapist, and I think that this will always be the reality of my life. I have no guarantee that I will not have weeks where my nights are like this, where I am afraid to go to sleep because of the nightmares. I have no surety that I will never end up again in day treatment after I eventually leave. I will never know for sure if I will ever end up again the hospital.
But it has to be ok, or at least, I just need to accept that.
My life will always be different from the vast majority of people I will ever know. My scars will always give away that something is off about me. I will take pills for the rest of my life. I will always see the world differently than those around me.
That’s not a bad thing.
I was speaking with my mentor today, who’s also been through the same kinds of things as me, and he told me something that I’m going to try and keep close to my heart. He told me that I’ve been through things that the normal people in the world could never even imagine. I’ve seen things and had things happen to me that the vast majority of people will never experience; but the fact is, I’m still here. He said to me it takes immense inner strength to endure what we go through, to suffer invisibly and constantly struggle against diseases that literally change how my mind works. I am stronger than I know, and I get stronger every day that I can take all of the punishment this disease dishes out on me and still get up to try again tomorrow.
I’m not saying that I’m better than anyone else, or that people that don’t suffer from mental health issues don’t have real pain and anguish; I’m just saying that I am finding within myself the strength to keep going when it seems like every bout of sleep brings a nightmare or a night terror. That I am finding that perseverance to continue on even though I have nights filled with emotional turmoil. I am finding within myself that I want to live and be healthy because of how loud I scream back at the voices that tell me to hurt myself or take myself out of the equation.
I am going to keep going, I’ve worked so hard to get through all of this. It’s hard, it’s painful, it can be devastating, and it can be challenging when you can’t trust your own mind; but there is a way through it. I will not be a statistic, I am going to have my own unique life. I may always have this in my life, but it doesn’t have to define me.
This disease may be part of who I am, but I am so much more. One day at a time, I will get where I want to be, even if a small part of me is a bit crazy. I only have my one life to live, and I intend on living it as much as I can.
I’m glad to be back, I’ve missed y’all so much. Much love this night from the Holy Land.