Flooding Fanatical Falling

 10526038_663870803709042_5332401051197838708_nI think my defenses are down. I think my ship is going down. I think I may die in the mud.  I think I may drown in a puddle of my own tears.  I cannot pretend that I am alright because I’m not, yet I do. I try hard to put that smile on my face and participate.  You’ll never know how fucking hard that is.  I do it for you.  I feel some sort of obligation to be “happy” and well ever since my suicide attempt.  Like he no longer deserves the wrath of my bipolar, only I do. So I keep it all inside.  I shove it down. I dance around as if all is right with the world when it isn’t.  Who is this a dis-service too?
IMG_0698 (2)Having a mental illness and being in a relationship, for me its marriage, is so difficult sometimes. The extra shame and guilt I carry for not only being sick, but for how it affects him, our marriage, my job, our financial stability. We are interlocked. I do love this man. He has stood by me through so much.  You have no idea how much.  Yet, there are just a few things I cannot talk to him about and that’s suicide. I just can’t get the words to come out, whether I am about to follow through with a plan, or thinking about it or reliving my recent attempt. I want to protect him. From what? He was there, he was part of it. It had him spinning. He is not naïve to this situation.  But, I still carry him on my back.
The memories of that day are flooding me. The pain of that day is wrapping itself around me like a prickly vine.  Every 20140708-182105-66065695.jpgmove is a reminder.  I’m having dreams that I should have hung myself by the river. There are plenty of trees that overhang the bank. No need to take that step off the ladder, just hang. No second chances.  No one would find me til I was cold. Long gone.  However, that is not what I chose to do.  I chose a personal place and that is eating me up as well.  Why keep talking about this anyway.
When I wasn’t brave enough to step off the ladder I took pills. This is the easy way out, and almost certainty you will live.  And I knew that. 
baby-panda-says-hi-katherine-fengSo here I am facing another shit storm in my mind.  Strength to keep fighting is withering away. I have no sword, no magic bullet.  Just pain.  In the past, I have cut myself to help “ease” this pain.  A temporary solution that leaves scars you then have to answer to.  But for a few brief moments it works, gets you outside your head.  Perhaps like a few shots of alcohol might do at the moment.  I feel weak because I can’t sit in the pain, and I can’t end the pain with my own hands.  I am dsc09933entrenched. This is me. These symptoms are part of me. 
Its like a circus carousel gone haywire. Spinning faster and faster. Can’t get off. Can’t breathe. The force of gravity knocking you down.  Can’t get your footing. Lost.  Looking for a way out constantly. But you are held down.  Through it all you are 8-3-14-gazania-jpegstill wearing your costume. At a moments notice the act can begin no matter how dizzy.  Its all my fault really. There is free will in this. I can take off the glitter and glam. I can show my vulnerability, my insecurities and fears…if I allow myself.  If I want to.  Perhaps my ship is going down because it is to heavy with bullshit.
123 RV, SA, JW, RW, PA, JZM
finger-touching-nose-of-baby
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2 thoughts on “Flooding Fanatical Falling

  1. speaking for my own personal experience…

    i recognize that is sucks to be where you are ask. there are times where i have so much to say but, for reasons unclear to me, i keep it all locked away in my little chest.

    i once had a wise person tell me, “don’t talk about the acting out, but talk about the feelings behind the acting out.”

    i recognize talking about the feelings behind the suicide might be just as hard since where they drove you, but perhaps not going to the act might make talking about the situation a little bit easier to discuss.

    as always, wishing you the best.

  2. Wow. I get it. All I can say is you are not alone and I get it. The power in your words show the depth of your pain, and I’m so sorry you have to endure it. Glad you can express the pain in writing, it needs to be voiced, and our spouses may not be able to receive it.

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