7/12/2024

I say my brain is like a bundle of tangled Christmas lights. I refer to it’s darkness by describing it as a few crossed wires. It’s mess… It implies that there’s a way to untangle it, to simply uncross the wires, or clean it all up. It implies hope… I’ve fixated on my brain all my life. Trying to find ways to understand it and explore answers. I’ve been in therapy for over a decade. I’ve tried different forms of treatment. I’ve complied and listened to every piece of advice. I’ve sought out people smarter than me. I’ve tired to attack it from all angles- physical, psychological, spiritual. I've fought to gain access to resources that could help me. I’m grasping for things to hold on to. Things that could weigh me down.

I don’t know what to do with this feeling. The more tools I compile, the more this feeling grows.

It rolls in like a quiet fog. Before I know it, I’m consumed. It’s only in retrospect that I can pick up on the change in climate. My lack of clarity and focus only increasing.

There’s a deck of cards shuffling in my head. Mixed with the good and the bad stuff. There’s a push and pull as I flip through the options. I try to give the good more weight. I try to convince myself to hold on to these things.

I don’t even know what to call this kind of desire. This shadow, this fog, this demon, monster. It’s so embedded in me. It couldn’t be me…could it?

You tell me my mind is brilliant. You say it’s art, it’s philosophical. You tell me to paint it! To write it! To refrain from judging it and simply witness. None of this feels like art! None of this I want to talk about! None of it I want to witness! I’m tired of watching the cycle rinse and repeat. I’ve gotten real good at disconnecting from myself. It’s the only way I know to escape it so I can catch my breath. But you, you ask me to stay, to listen, and watch. You want me to describe what it’s like to watch the weight of nothingness consume me!?

There’s no art in it...

I watch myself pace around my apartment before bed. Fully aware of how exhausted I am yet feeling so incredibly wired.

I watch myself struggle to sooth myself-with the sound of water, the weight of my blanket, the rocking of my legs, the smell of lavender, the humming in my chest.

I watch myself wake up far too early-fully alert but my eyes burn if I hold them open.

I watch myself struggle to peel myself off the mattress.

I watch myself compensate with strong coffee.

I watch myself forget to brush my teeth all day.

I watch myself blame it on forgetting.

I watch myself forget to shower.

I watch myself struggle to get my hair and face to tell a different story.

I watch my stomach forget to cue me to eat.

I watch as I force myself to eat.

I watch how it triggers nausea and sometimes I vomit.

I watch myself disconnect and do the one thing I know how to do.

I watch how I unravel the second I’m off-duty.

I watch as the anger grows.

I watch as I try to bang it out.

I watch as it ironically causes relief.

I watch how I reach for the whiskey.

I watch how I try to breathe instead.

I watch as I begin to contemplate the methods.

I watch as I decide stretching might help.

I watch as I panic and raid my kitchen.

I watch as the nausea triggers disgust.

I watch as I open and close my alcohol cabinet.

I watch as I try to read.

I watch how the itching of my skin leads me to scratch it deeply.

I watch as I try to sketch.

I watch as I struggle to focus.

I watch myself pour another glass.

I watch myself settle and wish for something stronger.

I watch myself think about the pills, the blades, the bullets.

I watch myself decide to breathe.

I watch myself try the yoga.

I watch as the bruises settle and ache.

I watch as I decide a shower could help.

I watch as I collapse into the tub and decide it’s more energy than I have.

I watch as I try to trigger my humor with another special.

I watch as I try to access love in this world.

I watch as I struggle to climax for the dopamine.

I watch as I fight to stay one move ahead of my own mind.

I watch as I struggle.

I watch as I terrify myself.

I watch as I humiliate myself.

Nothing about this brilliant! It’s just the result of mess I can’t seem to clean up. If I’m lucky, it’ll pass in a couple weeks. Then the panic attacks take over for some time. Rinse and repeat.