How can you explain the unexplainable?
The intangible that lives within and is expressed without but not with words…thoughts, deeds, drinks, and pills. Words seldom give justice to the turmoil within. And even when blurted out in a moment of weakness or vulnerability…if expressed to the wrong person they are still and float on the air like flotsam…better left wherever the journey began.
One might say “get a therapist” or “join a group.” Some psychobabble will surely help things along. Turn lemons into lemonade, bump inertia into movement. But, what to do without that ever-expensive, mostly elusive thing called health insurance?
Out of pocket expenses for mental health care are damaging.
So the cycle continues. The mood swings, the doubting, the bursts of mania. The decision to do one thing and suddenly another road is taken. All the while keeping things together. Feeling very little, looking very ill and fooling no one. Or maybe, just maybe, fooling everyone and that is the very problem that needs to be addressed.
The adjectives used to describe this current state are self-actualized and negative. But what is the alternative?
“Take these broken wings and learn to fly…”
No, these wings aren’t broken, my cape is not torn, I can handle everything that is happening. In the midst of accolades for “making it,” the pieces of my heart slowly tumble and quietly hit the ground while barely making a whisper.
And yet the pain is still devastating, immobilizing and nobody knows.
Admittedly this is my fault. Perhaps wiping away the facade will release magical healing powers, somehow I find that doubtful. So what if the alternative means holding it all in, weight creeping up and face looking as if I’m aging in reverse – teen years I’m back! Acne and all.
Sadly I don’t know how to remedy this. And so I sit. Waiting for the next thing in the pipeline and inevitably it comes and keeps me focused.
For a moment.
But in the quiet times (which are rare) my truth must be faced. I’m inert. Immobile. Dysfunctional and pray that someone will swoop in and take it all away. The likelihood of that happening? Nil.
And so I wake to face another day, I wear the mask and hope that no one notices.
May 13, 2011 at 4:13 pm
May 13, 2011 at 4:54 pm
Beautifully written. Sending light and love.
LAUREN ELYSE says:
May 13, 2011 at 6:13 pm
This is so beautiful.
May 13, 2011 at 8:43 pm
I’m new to this writing, so I don’t know the background. It was shared in my reader, and besides its brilliance compelling me to leave a comment, I wanted to say that(extenuating circumstances, aside) I’ve been there. I’ve been broke and manic and unmedicated and hiding (unsuccessfully).
So, I can’t offer you meds or money — I need the latter for the former, myself — but I can offer an ear, if you need one that might’ve been there, done that and avoided doing it tomorrow.
(PS. I’m not REALLY a creepy stalkerish person. I just wished, at this place, like I’d had someone who knew the deal is all.)
May 14, 2011 at 9:49 am
I am so sorry. You’ve illuminated your pain so beautifully and I wish I had more than hugs to give.
May 14, 2011 at 8:17 pm
Zoey, we know each other so I know you aren’t a stalker! Thank you for your support, I very well may take you up on the offer.
May 15, 2011 at 9:12 am
Oh, honey, that sucks and I’m so sorry. Let me know how I can help. Although I’m feeling a hint of all that myself…
May 15, 2011 at 9:56 am
When someone articulates this pain in such a beautiful way, it helps others understand just a little bit, I think.
Reaching in, pulling out those words, and sharing them made a difference in my life today. Thank you.
May 17, 2011 at 6:15 pm
I wore a mask. And that’s what I called it. I know exactly where you’re coming from. I also wrote in a similar manner as you are. Creative. As I am a creative person. Apparently so are you, if you didn’t know that 🙂
So anyways, I can full heartedly say that I have been there. Mask and all. Feel free to read my blog. Go back a couple of years and you may see a reflection of yourself.
I’m here if you ever need to talk to someone like minded.
So often, fully acknowledging that we’re stuck is the first massive step toward finding the “fix.” (I know that’s a over simplification, but starting the process is huge.) I wish I could hug you. Please know that there is help, just don’t stop until you find it. And, in the meantime, we’re here for you.