The Unhealthy Internal Monologue

I think I have reached or am reaching a point where I need help. Confusingly I also think this may be the time to ‘throw’ myself back into work. It doesn’t really matter which, both terrify me, both fill me with dread.

I begin each morning in a lucid state and try to understand the confusion in my head. I am conscious of my half awake state and play out each problem in my dreamlike world knowing that it is not real yet completely accurate of how I really feel.

I want to run away, no, I want to be alone. I am alone. I am alone in my bed. no. I want to cut myself off from the handful of people that are in my life. I don’t want to be here. Now really is the time. How would such and such feel? I have no feelings. They love me. I do not feel the love.

Maybe you should go back to work, up the meds and ‘throw’ yourself into life. Why? So I can be another unhappy body on the train back and forth to a job I do not really want to do, surrounded by people I do not care for, pretending everything is fine. Yes. Yes you should. The medication will slowly kick in, you will have money, you will be incorporated into society, you will feel better… Maybe.

This has been going on for days. Torturing me. All the feelings flood back; self harm, self-sabotage, suicide. One thought seamless with the next. I need to talk to somebody yet I want to be alone. This is just the way it is. I want to get out of bed yet I will stay here all day. I think, I think, I think. I think so much it hurts to think.

I remember all the mania; the wild eyed crazy, the shouting, the begging, the frustrated crying, the silent tears, the numbness after the storm had passed and the plain heart wrenching pain of loneliness. Now I am calm. I now see that before I wanted the help, I was crying out for help and now the realisation hits me; that I have already burnt out and now I am simply fading away.

I already get it. What is there to weigh up? Which fate is worse? I cannot talk to myself any longer. I am switching off. Retreating into my isolated loneliness where I am the cause and effect of my own damned pain. How long will this go on for? How much more can I endure?

And then I wake up.


One thought on “The Unhealthy Internal Monologue

  1. It truly does suck when your brain drags your sleep through the mess. Sometimes my dreams meld with my thoughts and the resulting scrambled stuff becomes that foot sucking, can’t move nightmare. I really enjoy waking more tired than when I went to bed. Depression sucks.
    You are not alone. ☺

    Liked by 1 person

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