Sleeping in is a luxury far removed from my reality. My bed still calls to me every morning, giving the utmost effort to hold me down. But this isn’t an act of kinship with my sheets, rather my sheets are hellbent on smothering me into nothingness. I’m laying facedown, surrounded in a sea of tumbling cotton, and every attempt from my lungs to dispel the CO2 coating my throat is pushed straight back down. In a matter of seconds, the warm air I’ve been swallowing has become a solid mass of fiery coals, cooking my flesh from the inside out. The only chance for relief would be to welcome the idea of sleep, but I know that with sleep comes dreams, and my dreams have been sifted time and time again until I was left with but a single scene. That scene also haunts me while I’m awake, but when I’m awake I can numb my feels through things like work, drugs or alcohol. In my dreams I can’t leave my own head, so it hits me full force. And it hurts. God, it hurts so fucking much. I know it’s just a dream, but it still breaks me. Every night it breaks me, and I’m forced to put myself back together in the morning. I have responsibilities, so I can’t waste any time. I know I’m not putting things back exactly where they should go. I know I’m ignoring my crumbling edges. I know nothing will get better for me if I don’t stop living like this. But this is all I know. This is the only way I know how to stand back up.
This blog has meant the world to me. I’ve only been doing this for a few months, and it’s not very big, but just having a place to let my thoughts leak out, without having to hold back, is keeping me alive.
I started a new job on Monday, because I had a mental breakdown at my old job a month ago. I have never been a stable person, but like most people with anxiety and depression I have fought to keep it from showing. I made an extra effort at work, because I’m embarrassed by the whole thing.
But I had a bad beginning to 2018, and I got carried away one night. I took far to many sleeping pills along with far to many drinks. My neighbors found me right outside my apartment, lying face down in a pool of vomit. My arms and legs were cut to shreds, and my left arm was marbled purple and swelled to twice its normal size.
I spent 3 days in the hospital. These were workdays too, so I had to call off. I didn’t know how to explain any of this to my boss, but she’s amazing and nice, so I tried.
I broke down in tears within the first 10 seconds on the phone, and after 10 minutes of that she told me to just email her.
3 days passed, and I was released. I had a broken arm, and my stomach had been pumped so I felt like shit, and to top it all off I left scars in places I couldn’t hide. See, when I take my clothes off I look insane, just leftover lines everywhere, but I could hide most of them. Even new ones I made, they just overlapped old ones, and it was all hidden. But I couldn’t hide these not from anybody.
I couldn’t go back into work. I couldn’t. I spent 2 more days doing nothing but crying, dreading the end of the weekend and my return to work.
Monday morning came and it all sank in; I couldn’t go.
I emailed my boss, turned off all my electronic devices, and disappeared for a week. Well more like hibernated. But even that’s wrong, because I didn’t sleep.
For 1 week I didn’t set foot outside of my apartment. I never got on my phone or computer. I never left for food or anything else. I talked to no one. I never opened my blinds. I sat in the dark, taking just enough pills in timed intervals to keep me from feeling or thinking without going to far. I didn’t want to go to the hospital again.
After that week I made a return to the world, albeit through the internet. Specifically I wrote something and posted it here, to my blog. And people liked it, some commented on it. I love getting comments. Everyone here is nice, but even if the comments weren’t nice I would be okay with that. Just putting my thoughts out to someone…it really does save me.
So now I have a new job. Nothing fancy, just something to pay the bills. And I have this blog. Again, nothing fancy, but it’s somewhere I can be myself.
So thank you to everybody who reads my blog, or doesn’t read my blog, because I enjoy reading other peoples blogs even if they aren’t reading mine. The internet isn’t real life, but I only feel alive through this site. Is that sad? Bad? Pathetic? Probably all of that and more, but I don’t care.
Thank you everybody, please keep reading and writing, and if you have any suggestions for writing topics or story ideas, or critiques of my other posts, please don’t hesitate!