I know a lot of people don't want to hear this, but I need to say it; I am not okay.
Sometimes, I almost feel like I am, and for an instant, I swear I almost want to be alive. But it only ever lasts for a moment, until I realize what a mess I really am.
From time to time, paranoia overwhelms me. Sometimes, there's nothing to trigger it, but mostly it's calls from hidden caller ID that sets me off. I have my own reasons for that.
When it happens, I have some very specific things I need to do, to get rid of the angsty feelings.
First of all, I walk.
It sounds extremely simple, which makes it so unbelievably complex. I force myself to walk and not run. I really want to run, because the animal inside me makes me believe that I can run from what scares me. But then the feeling wins. If I run from the sense of people watching me, I let it dominate me, and I can't do that. I can't let my own mind bully me into fleeing.
So first, I force myself to walk, not run. Then I start reciting songs I know like the back of my hand. Often it's Taylor Swift, or Birdy, something I know so well I could sing it on auto-pilot. If that doesn't work, and often it doesn't, I start talking. Ranting, really. This is when I feel it.
Feel the world spinning, but myself spinning even faster. Feel the fabric that is my sanity unraveling into fragile threads. Those threads are stretched taut. Some of them break. Some hold. Sometimes none do.
I want to run, scream, fall, cry, break down, but I have no idea how to do any of it, not really...
I can run, yes, but I can never really run from what I need to run from. I can't just start screaming in the middle of the night... Someone would call the police, and I am just about still rational enough for that to bother me.
I can fall to the ground, but without the screaming, that won't really do me any good.
And I can't cry. This is the one thing I need the most, the one thing I've needed for five years, but literally can't do. The pain and misery is everywhere, but the tears just won't come, and they never do.
Those are the times when I pray for it all to end. Because I'm tired, so tired of telling myself to just go through one more day, just a little while now, just keep breathing.
I want to stop the pain. Nobody really ever commits suicide because they want to die; they do it because they want to stop the pain.
But it just seems so ridiculous to end it now. I've survived four and a half year of hell before I finally got Cailin, who makes me days almost bearable. And if I can survive the unimaginable for more than four years, I sure can survive the aftermath!
At least that's what I tell myself when I want to give up. And I often do.
But Cailin needs me. My mom needs me. I know I'd die for both of them, but honestly, I'm still deciding whether I will live for them. But I have for this long now, so why not continue? It can't get worse than it has been, and where I am now, it has been much, much worse.
Still, I hate it when people tell me that I'm going to be okay. Like hell I am, and they can't tell me what I am and am not going to be.
Really, I think they know that. What they're really saying is: ”Please be okay. I need you to be okay, otherwise I won't be.”
And that's okay. That I get. But don't tell me that I'm going to be okay, when you have no idea what it's like to be inside my head. Because it's a lot of things, but 'okay' sure isn't one of them!
So no, I am not going to be okay. And that's okay, believe it or not. It has to be okay, because I have to be okay. And I won't be, but I am. Get it? No? Well, I'm the one thinking it right now, and I don't even think I get a word of it.
But this kind of pain? It's my life. The days that seems never-ending, because I've told myself I just have to hold on 'one more day''. The nights I spend wide awake, because if I finally fall asleep, I will be woken by a nightmare within the next hour, and that's a fact. I know those things better than anything else. I am literally scared of being happy, because it is the strangest, most uncomfortable sensation I have ever suffered. Yes, I have SUFFERED happiness.
Remember the fabric of sanity I mentioned earlier? Yeah, it's really shredded now.
So don't tell me I'm going to be okay. I lie to myself enough already, I really don't need anyone to help me.
It isn't going to be okay. It has to be okay. I won't survive if I can't make it okay, so now we take one day at a time. And if this day isn't okay, then the next will be. Or the next. Or the one in twenty years.
Because it's not fine. It's not good. It's not even alright.
But I can do 'okay'. Someday.
Because I have to.