Friday, May 24, 2013

To Be, Or Not To Be.

“…You keep alive a moment at a time
But still inside a whisper to a riot
To sacrifice but knowing to survive
The first decline another state of mind
I'm on my knees, I'm praying for a sign
Forever, whenever
I never wanna die…”- FOO FIGHTERS

It wasn’t that long ago I was obsessed with ending my life. I didn’t feel alone or unloved, I never felt unlucky, inept, or undesirable. I always knew what I was capable of and where my strengths lay. In the depths of my despair I still knew how to make others feel good, or make them laugh. I just didn’t want to live. I hated myself to the very core, knew that I was going to leave this earth, that I was wasting everyone’s time. (Please refer to post: VALE OF TEARS written while I was depressed & hypomanic.) I knew that bipolar disorder is chronic & that it would never leave me alone. It had been 22 years & each time I got sick it got worse. Why did people want me to hang on for this? I could act; tell jokes, write- but who cares? The world wouldn’t miss me. I didn’t want them to & I knew eventually they would forget. I wasn’t going to accomplish anything great, I’d come close too many times & failed. Nothing would change. People I love die, my heart breaks, and the world is cold and unjust. I’d been freed by figuring it all out: there was no point in living at all. I knew I was sick but it didn’t mean that the world would change whether I lived, died, was ill or well. I wanted to remove myself.
I’m here to tell you I was wrong. I was sick, I didn’t/couldn’t know better. I never gave myself a legitimate chance (by taking responsibility for my disease) at trying to heal & so I couldn’t. I’ve said before that it feels like I’m clawing myself out of this grave I dug for myself & it still does. I’m beginning to poke through the thick, black earth. Everyday feels like a struggle but help is there when you ask for it.  My days center around recovery. From AA to my psychiatrist, day-patient programs at the psychiatric hospital, diet, exercise, surrounding myself with people that I love, writing & getting back to work. It’s happening- the impossible. I realize feelings will always change & happiness is fleeting, but I feel it now. That little lump of coal in my chest is turning pink again & starting to beat & I feel like a real girl- not some robot zipped-up in a plastic human suit, misconstrued & waiting for the battery to die. People love and strangers care and there is patience on this earth.
Before my group therapy at the hospital yesterday I went by to the unit where I was kept for the larger part of the fall & winter to say hello to the nursing staff. They couldn’t believe the change in me. Neither can I.
If you’re not well, hang on. Do what you can to make it right again. Stay sober & get clean. Go to meetings, reach out for help. Go to your doctor & take your meds properly. Eat well, hydrate yourself & exercise. 
Ask yourself who you want to be, what you want to be known for and be that person. If I can do it, anyone can do it.
I promise.


Simon Rakoff said...

So impressed with your strength.

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