Mental Health, Uncategorized

The Morning After

Over the last year I’ve found it hard to be honest about how I’m actually coping. It’s about time I’m honest about how I’m doing mentally these days. And what better way to do that than show you one of my journal entries. I edited certain details, grammar and the flow of  this since I was mid mental breakdown while writing it this morning.  If you’re feeling as out of control as me these days, please hold on for the better days which will come eventually. I was bedbound for 4 years and so suicidal and never thought it would get better but eventually it did.  Yes it got bad again, but you have to take whatever good you can get in this world.  I guess here we go, enjoy my crazy ramblings from 5am:

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I need to run. Run beyond the confines of  my body and the chaos within my mind.  The only thing that could help is being so high on adrenaline that all I can feel is my heart pounding out of my chest ready to take off.  Escaping from the ceaseless confines of my mind.  All of my memories  on rewind. I want to teleport back to the good old days. But instead, I’m bound and not in a fun way. Nobody will rescue me when I say stop. A plethora of memories entangled in one another.  It’s dizzying trying to figure out what went where and if they are even real.

I never thought I’d end up like this. I was given a second chance at life. But here I am, a year later begging myself for forgiveness.  I beg myself to let go. I beg myself to heal. I beg myself to stop caring. I beg myself to forget. But most of all I’m begging myself to click reset.

I was doing well. Until I met the side of myself who needs constant validation. I need to validate myself by proving I’m strong and independent while also trying to please everyone around me.  But my  stubborness does not mix well with others. I can’t tell if I’m running to or from my reality.

It reminds me of seven year old me with her hands on her hips with her goldie locks, stubbornly saying I will not do Braille I can see! I can see so I don’t need help. I only get migraines from reading SOMETIMES! Eleven years later I’m still little Niamh.  I’m still trying to prove to everyone that I don’t need help.   

The truth is, I’m begging  myself to save me. I know I’m the only one who can do that  I’m the only one who will never fail to be present while I’m struggling  

 

 

 

 

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