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It’s Been A While, Hasn’t It.

TW: Mental Illness (Bipolar Disorder/Mood Swings)

Relatively shaky today. I don’t know why. I have no reason whatsoever to be emotionally unstable. It’s ridiculous, to be honest. I feel so stupid for not being able to get ahold of myself. I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown, but not quite. Not just yet. I still manage to hold myself together, but I also could completely lose it at any moment. One little nudge could tip the scale and set me off.

It doesn’t happen every day, but when it does, my mind goes to a dark place. And it stays there a while. How long, you ask? I couldn’t tell you. But I’m suddenly worthless; I can’t seem to do anything right, I’m not good enough for one reason or another, so why bother trying to climb out of this hole I’ve dug myself into? The effort would be pointless.

Something inside of me suddenly materializes, latches around my stomach, and gives it a good, hard twist. I double over, nearly vomit, but manage to keep the bile from rising in my throat. My heart beats painfully underneath my collarbone, racing at a hundred miles an hour. Sometimes a sheen of sweat breaks out along my hairline. I can’t even seem to draw a simple, steady breath.

It hurts. It really, really hurts.

Mood swings suck.

I want to cry and scream and throw things all at the same time, yet I don’t want to waste the energy. So I climb into bed, curl up into a ball, and close my eyes, wrapping an arm around my ribs to physically hold myself together. Maybe that will help keep the internal storm at bay, send the raging black clouds somewhere else. I suppose it’s worth a shot, though I already know the sky will open up, and the rain will soak me through, regardless of my efforts.

It’s really hard just to write this. Writing usually helps when I’m feeling like crap – I move the pen and bleed onto the paper – but I can’t seem to shake the ugly inner critic today, the ugly inner critic whispering that I should quit now before I disappoint anyone. I’m sure it sounds vague to you, dear Reader. The voice doesn’t mention anything all that specific, but I get the idea. I know what the voice is talking about, as well as the people it’s alluding to without having to hear the people’s names aloud.

They’ll be disappointed in me because I’ll be a failure. I already am a failure, at least in my mind. I’m a fraud. I can’t support myself the way I should be able to at this stage in my life – emotionally or otherwise. I shouldn’t have to use my loved ones as a crutch; they shouldn’t have to drag me along behind them just so I’m able to keep up with them. I should be able to stand on my own two feet. I should be able to handle these things by myself. I should, I should, I should…

I should, yet I can’t. I’m a despicable excuse for a human being.

I mentioned this before, but I’ll say it again: I don’t know why I’m in such a mood. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I just need some chocolate. Or some ice cream. Or all of the above.

Regardless, I think I’m going to stop here. Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer. I’ll come back later with something more positive. Promise.


(Also, if you made it this far, if you read this entry from start to finish, thank you. I really do appreciate it.)


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