I don’t think anyone understands mental illness. Even if you’ve seen a friend after they’ve finished up having a panic attack or experience fairly severe anxiety yourself. And that’s not to discredit or invalidate whatever feelings you yourself may have sometimes.
But this feeling. It’s like a drop of ink into water. It slowly and seductively spreads across my mind like a blanket of mist. So quiet I don’t even realize it. But once it’s settled there is no missing it.
I instantly become completely filled with grey and any idea of wiping it out of my head is deemed impossible. To rid my brain of these thoughts after they’ve settled is something that’s never been done for me. Thoughts like no man will ever love you, you are disgusting, you are stupid, you are worthless, and that no matter how hard you try, success will never come to someone as pathetic as you.
I purposely go look in the mirror just so that I can see how pathetic and humiliating I truly am. The easy solution is to turn the bathroom lights off and sit in the fetal position. But this soon proves a mistake as the darkness of my mind and the complete lack of vision combine, and I can almost see the thoughts racing through my mind in front of me.
My body begins to physically react to the negative thoughts. It’s no longer just crying, it’s muted moans. Like maybe if I focus hard enough, and cry loud enough, I can force the thoughts out of my mind. But there’s no luck.
I gather my strength to make it back to my bed, but the episode continues. My brain is pounding against my skull, and my solution is to start slamming my fist against my head. Though it doesn’t help push out the thoughts, the physical pain becomes a distraction for a moment. That hint of physical pain and the distraction it brought from my mental agony sparks another idea. I latch my fingernails into my forearm, a sweet spot for me where a scar resides from past abuse from almost a year prior that involved a knife. After about ten seconds, I release my grasp and am thankful for the relief that comes with.
The amount of energy that has been exerted throughout the episode is more than my brain typically deals with in a day. I become sleepy and my eyes puffy, heavy, and still streaming with tears. The bad thoughts are still present in my head but going down. They’re settling into my brain deep down where I typically prefer to keep them. But always on high alert, ready to seep out any opportunity they get.
It’s over. It’s passed. The tears are pooled in the corners of my eyes, where I’m too lazy to wipe them away. I’m going to rest, and hope and pray that this doesn’t all happen again tomorrow.