What is a nervous breakdown? It is not wanting to spend another second in your skin. It is hating yourself for feeling that way, for laying that burden upon those around you. It is knowing that the only way to make quiet is to remove your brain from the equation, and also knowing the only way to do that. It is your brain in salty water, calling to you like a siren - SILENCE ME, SILENCE ME! - trying to pull you under. Then you tie yourself to a pole so that you cannot do what everything in you screams to do, and try to weather the storm. And you don’t know why. It is dancing delicately on Occam’s razor, trying to find anything that makes sense and finding nothing at all.
There is no easy answer. There is no logic. There is only the disease, sucking at your soul, an alien in your brain. In my case, unipolar depression, which is (as I jokingly told a friend today) like having bipolar disorder, only without any of the fun of the upswings.
Now, four months into the scary medications, something is coming back together. My hands still quiver and shake while I search for the right words, but I can search for them! I can see the outline of where I once stood; I just need to figure out how to write the paragraphs, then the sentences, then the words. I was never good with punctuation, anyway.
Now I have a wedding to plan. Yes, P and I have decided. I don’t know why he loves me, but he does. This disease is horrid. It is inexplicable. I am hard to reach, even for myself. I don’t deserve his love. I feel like a wretch from the gutter, a liar and a thief who has been unknowingly ushered into the dance of the faeries. And I want do dance, I do! I want the soft relief of his steady arms, his steady mood, his steady love. I just hope I don’t bring occam’s razor with me.
May 20th, 2009 at
Well, what doesn’t kill you,… just scared the hell out of us. Yes, you’re getting it back together again - and that’s fantastic to see - do dance, damned, do ! (feels good to see you back here…)
May 26th, 2009 at
love that pic.
June 2nd, 2009 at
The shaking, the desperate death twitches — and yet, there you are, standing. Enfolded in love. The mind is an exquisite, brutal tool, isn’t it? Thank God for those who understand our fairy boats and monsters that float before our eyes in broad daylight. Wishing you so very, very much happiness. And you are not alone. Okay, I don’t have a tick on my hoo-ha, sure, but I have a good sense of the rest of the crap, including real crap by your head in a tent. Been there. Blessings, Beauty.