Monday, October 11, 2010

I'm insane

This isn't going to make sense to anyone, probably not even me, but I'm posting it anyway...

I'm torn between wanting help and being seduced by the demon in my brain that convinces me that death is the only way to be free of the lifetime of physical, emotional and psychological torment I have endure. More often than not, I prefer to grab the outstretched hand of the monster willing to take me to the grave because it is most familiar. He's been there a long time. He speaks to me all the time, offering evidence that he is right, and I believe him. And when I try to go against him, there seems to be no limit to the lengths he will go to in order to bring me back by his side.

After cranking my ipod to distract the beast and to drown out any objections it may have had if it decided to pay attention, I wrote a quick note to my therapist. It was a plea that said no matter what happens in the coming weeks, she cannot let me quit therapy. I said I was safe, that I won't let it kill me right now, but I couldn't explain further.

I had wanted to give it to her during our session, but the monster knew something was up and kept drowning me in wave after wave of anxiety, paralyzing me with fear. Somehow I managed to slip it to the receptionist as I was leaving.

Even to write this now, I have my ipod cranked up to drown out the berating remarks of how weak I am, how stupid I am. I'm also drinking so that hopefully when I get done here, I can pass out and not have to listen to the voice screaming in my head all night, trying to convince me I'm insane. That if I share this with anyone, they'll all think I'm insane.

At times I know it doesn't seem like it, but I desperately want to trust my therapist and allow her into my world, but there's no way the evil lurking inside will allow that. It keeps me up at night spewing its repetitive tirade about the dangers of the mental health system. When I try to dream of a better life, all it does is play back the hell I've lived and yells at me that this is all there is. It doesn't get any better. It tells me there is only one escape for me.
Everything it tells me, everything it shows me, seems so logical that I end up believing it. So I quit the meds and I try to quit therapy, but then my own voice calls out in little more than a whisper and injects a minuscule amount of doubt that festers until I'm not sure what's real, what's true. Leaving me in a constant state of anxiety because I don't know which direction to head in.

How do I explain to her that there's this other "thing" in my head? It's not just a voice and I'm not delusional or hallucinating, it's really there. It tends to get more vocal when I'm unable to sleep, but even when I'm medicated, it's still there. I don't know how to extricate it from within me. I don't know if anyone else does either. But I almost feel as if I have to try, for my daughter.


Blogger Michael said...

Author Anne Lamott calls it KFKD, K-Fucked: the station that plays all self loathing, all the time.

I know the words to that song, too.

All I can say is, the world would be lesser without you. Let the beast play with someone else tonight.

Get through tonight. Then get through the morning.

You can do this.

10:28 PM, October 11, 2010  
Blogger Verity Vaudeville said...

It's one of the hardest things really; being able to tell how much of the depression
Is actually you, and how much is a result of the chemical imbalances in the brain. When do marks of character become mere symptoms of some psychosis? Meanwhile all you can feel is a walking diagnosis. Maybe we don't want to be defined by this. I believe you to be a full person in her own right, it's just a bit close for you to feel right now.try to be patient if you can.

2:44 AM, October 12, 2010  

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