In Blackest Night – Hello Darkness My Old Friend
I’d like to tell you that all is well. I’d like to tell you many things. But in the styling of ‘Lemony Snicket’ , the true story is much darker. Things were better. Better, meaning an improvement on before. Before, meaning prior to the last week or so. My medication seemed to be akin to Goldilocks’ hopes–just right. My mood had gone back to what I would deem normal. I actually began to feel more human and more of a Dad. Things that seemed alien and unachievable for me in the many weeks prior.
I’d started to started to eat healthier again and, despite some days where I just couldn’t prepare food and resorted to Just Eat, I either lost or maintained weight based upon the week before. Another feel good factor. Weight loss with little to no exercise boosted my confidence a bit. Feeling like my clothes were no longer trying to squeeze me to death like a boa constrictor also helped.
It took a long time to get to that point, pocked with many challenges and obstacles but I got there. And then a number of things changed that. At this stage, there are some things I wish to keep private but these new challenges or bombshells practically undid ALL of that progress. I can feel myself teetering on the edge and feeling physically sick and terrified of what may come. The worst part of all of this? The only people who will inevitably read this are the ones in similar positions to myself, not the people who SHOULD read this to get a handle on how it all works and to gain an understanding that reading a shared meme cannot convey.
So, here I am. Still amidst the fog and debris of a crumbling mind wondering what happens next. Wondering when I will feel at ease and safe again. One of the biggest struggles I have had is to try and get people to listen. To try and get them to understand. And through all the arduous efforts to do so I feel it has had little to no effect. I remain un-listened to. Ignored. No one understands, and I can’t get my head around how people can’t even grasp the basic aspect of the fact, that medication takes a long time. Changing medication and allowing time as well as riding out the storm that ensues thanks to the weaning process as well as the side effects of the switch. During those tumultuous times, the days and nights get darker (and full of terror) and one’s desire to go on wanes to the point it is almost fully eclipsed by the darkness.
To get people to understand that this mental illness malarkey doesn’t stick to a routine–you can’t set your watch by it. To simply switch off is impossible. I suppose the only analogy that folks can grasp these days is that my broken mind is like a software fault. Erratic and unstable behaviour, fits and bursts of energy/enthusiasm and then the exact opposite, slowness to respond, crashes and all the other shit that comes with it. I can’t say how I will feel tomorrow and I’m so used to this no longer function the way I once did. Becaiuof uncertainty that I no longer hope things will be better tomorrow. My response is just a calm, “We’ll see how I feel in the morning”. I find holding hope only leads to disappointment so if I go in with no hopes I can’t be disappointed if the cynical element is sated.
I find inspiration from others is like a short-term fix – a minor high before the all-time low and the concept of ‘chasing the dragon’. That ever elusive dragon. The inspiration helps for a short while before the realisation that I am not living their life but existing in mine hits home and the darkness seeps back in through the front door in that neighbourhood my grandparents told me of where you could leave your windows and doors unlocked. Free to come and go as it pleases with blatant disregard to the mess it leaves with the host.
I find myself a social pariah nowadays. A handful of friends and a pocketful of nothing. Out of sight and out of mind like an infant Michael Myers chained up to his highchair (if the later canon is to be believed). With people I believed to be friends to turn away and forsake me because I have a defective mind. Feeling more and more alienated thanks to my condition is such a great side effect of it. They certainly don’t list this shit on the leaflet in with the meds!
While my logical mind tells me not to let the negativity of late to get the better of me, the ‘dark half’ (I call it that after the Stephen King novel of the same name) tries to take control via my emotions. After all, it’s far easier and more memorable to succumb to the negative aspects as opposed to the positive. It’s a surprise I get anything done with this internally incessant war going on within the confines of my skull.