Sunday, February 28, 2016

Broken Girl chronicles




I've been living a lie for so long I am a little apprehensive to be so honest. Maybe this post won't reach anyone and my worry is all in vain. The truth is I am NOT okay. I am Broken. Every morning I wake up, get out of bed, and paste a smile on my face. I must be pretty good at pretending because nobody ever questions it, heck, some days I almost believe it myself. I guess that's what happens though. You repeat the same lie enough times and it starts getting hard to distinguish the lies from the truth. Then the panic, anxiety, doubt whatever label you what to apply to it, slips in and I can start to see a crack in my facade. 
It's easy to see why people are so quick to accept my masks. From all outside appearances I shouldn't have any reason to feel the way I do. I have a large family that is exceptionally close, I am 27 so I should be in the prime of my life (right?), I have a nice car that is paid off, a good job and I own my own home. Honestly, it all makes me feel guilty. I mean there are people out there who don't have family, a place to live or money to even feed themselves. How can I be so selfish? 
I wish there was someone I could trust with the depth of my despair. It's exhausting keeping everything to myself but there is such a stigma attached to mental illness. People don't want to hear that your anxiety is so paralyzing at times its difficult to breathe or that you live inside your own head so much you can't even have normal relationships with other people. When people ask how you are they want the standard "I'm fine or I've been doing good." Well guess what??? I'm not fine. I question every action I take, every word that comes out of my mouth, and every text that I send. Oh God if texts aren't the worst!! No response in 5 mins (okay maybe that is sometimes an exaggeration) and I'm replaying the entire conversation in my head. Did I say something to offend? What did I do wrong? This leads to one or more additional texts, which equals me looking liking a crazy, psycho bitch at times. 
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I didn't exist. The numbness is unbearable at times. I understand why cutters do what they do. Feeling the pain is better than nothing at all. Of course in my line of work that isn't an option, plus I can barely poke myself to check my blood sugar levels. I can, however, handle other people taking needles to me so tattoos and piercing have become a welcome source of feeling. I currently have 3 large tattoos and 14 piercings. This need for feeling is a source of shame. I feel like a freak. 
I realize my train of thought has been all over the place. With so many different thoughts constantly running through my mind in a single instance is isn't always easy for them to flow in a coherent manner. I've considered seeing a therapist but all they can really offer is sympathy. I need empathy someone who has been through what I'm dealing with, knows exactly what it feels like. I think that is how I ended up here. Maybe expressing my feelings in written form can be just as therapeutic. Maybe this message will reach someone else who is suffering in silence and let them know they are not alone. Maybe it will reach someone who has experienced and conquered this beast so that they may pass on tips to the rest of us. Until then I will remain broken and not okay, making it through one day at a time. 
Best wishes to all,
BrokenGirl