We all know mental illness is crazy – literally. Sometimes we are high like a kite in the wind, zipping this way and that, sometimes diving into the sand at the beach. But we are flung back up and fly again. Sometimes we are puffy clouds in a blue sky simply floating. It feels amazing to be up there to be free, to be something a little girl lies in the grass and looks up at and creates dreams out of. And sometimes we are bright stars in a dark sky shining; people making wishes on us. We can be amazing. I feel great. I am on top of the world. Fuck, I own the world.
We can also be dark. Like the hole they dig in the ground to put the casket in. We are a dark, starless night. We are the pupil of the dead. We are a black whole. An abyss. When we are this way it hurts. It aches. It steals my joy. It steals the love I have for myself. This hurts.
When I pass by graveyards I either cry or at least get tears in my eyes because that is where I belong. I don’t mean I wish to be dead. It is just that after 4 suicide attempts I am surprised that is not where I am. How many chances does one get? THAT makes me cry. Why do I dislike myself so much that I would try to take my life not just once but multiple times? I don’t have the answer to that but I am working on it in therapy, because I need to know. Why? I want to learn to love myself and value my life enough that I never have to worry about that happening ever again.
My emotions, I believe, are heightened because of my mental illness. Things hurt more. Things make me more excited. It is like when I am interested in a guy. I want him totally. No other guy matters and when he changes his mind about me it breaks my heart a little bit. And why? We never really had a relationship so why do I get so sad? Because I feel rejected and I don’t do well with rejection. Remember, ElainaJ likes to be perfect, so to be rejected means I am not perfect. (And if you’ve read any of my posts you know I am working on that and no longer believe I am perfect and that that is okay). Right now I am going through that. I really like this guy, but I think he has changed his mind about me. That makes me sad, but what’s a girl to do? Gotta roll with the punches, I guess.
That’s another emotion that is toyed with. Love. When will I find love again. Reciprocated love. I thought this could be something, but maybe not. My therapist tries to convince me to love myself so others will love me. But I feel too chubby and I feel all these mental illnesses I have under my belt make me hard to love. I know this is a lie mental illness tells me and that I must learn to silence. I am tired of being alone.
It also affects relationships. Sometimes I take out my emotions on those close to me. Not often, but sometimes. Like yesterday, I text the guy kind of giving him an ultimatum. I didn’t want to do that. I was just frustrated. I was just emotional. And now I deal with the emotion of regret. It is exhausting.
In no way am I saying that people that do not live with mental illness feel emotion. I am saying that perhaps those of us touched by fire may feel it with more intensity.