My Shattered Mind

I have words, flashing through my brain as emotions and thoughts, begging to be brought together into a story. 

Pain. Joy. Loneliness. Fear. Elation. Insecurity. Self doubt. Love. Worthlessness. 

Anxiety. Stress. Self-harm. 

Mental health. 

A few days ago, I sat outside of the Crisis Counselling Walk-In, frozen in place inside my car. I was spiralling. Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten how to cope with my anxiety. Or, perhaps I had never really known how to. I was an emotional sieve, and hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop the flood of feelings from pouring out of me in surges: Anger, for being betrayed by my fragile mind. Embarrassment, for letting myself get this far. Despair, for feeling like I had lost something very important to me. Shame, for what I had done to myself to numb the pain. Loneliness, for feeling like I had no one.

I couldn’t bring myself to unlock my car door and walk into that building. I could barely admit these things to myself. How was I suppose to trust a stranger with my darkest thoughts?

I think I got cocky when I started feeling happy after starting antidepressants. I was cured!!! I would never feel terrible again! 

But, mental health is a beast that is not easily vanquished. It is the sinister being, lurking in the shadows of your mind, feeding you messages of self doubt without you even noticing. It is the frightened animal that shakes with fear when feeling threatened, and the thief that steals your joy and replaces it with jealousy. And it is the bull in a china shop, aggressive and relentless, leaving absolute destruction in its wake. 

That was how I found myself, sitting outside that clinic. My metaphorical bull had left me shattered and disoriented, and I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to put myself back together…

…or if I even wanted to. 

I thought about posting something to Facebook…Instagram…anywhere while I stared at those terrifying doors. I wanted to be seen and understood, and not feel so alone. But that sinister being whispered to me “you don’t want to do that…people will think you are an attention seeker”. In that moment, I believed it. 

Today, I wonder if that thought, the desire to not appear “attention seeking”, is what caused me to overflow into crisis. We have made huge strides in mental health awareness, but the stigma is still there. We post about our problems, hoping for comfort or needing a release, and the comments that follow say “you probably should have kept this to yourself” or “other people have it so much worse”. Or, perhaps I am projecting this onto everyone else because of my own fear of invalidation. Hello, mind shadow-lurker. 

I will address that at another time, I think. I am still sweeping up the shattered pieces of my psyche. 

The truth is, I feel like a burden. I’m sure we all do at times. We carry these heavy loads and don’t want to, or don’t know how to, ask for help. The pain has to go somewhere, though. Small stresses can eventually evaporate. But when one piles on top of another, on top of another, how do we release? The healthy answer would be to talk to someone…a counsellor, a friend, a stranger on Instagram. But, I apparently have an issue with choosing the healthy option. That was why I was sitting outside the Crisis Center. 

When my pot boils and overflows, I cut. I cut to release the build up of emotion by funnelling it into the physical pain. And it works! Until the guilt and shame sets in. 

That is frightening to admit so plainly: I indulge in self-harm to avoid dealing with the intensity of my emotions. 

……………………….

I have sat here for the last ten minutes staring at that line. I want to delete it. I want to erase it and have no one ever know. I feel such shame. But, I know I am not the only person out there who cuts. I know that I am not the only person who finds release in activities that hurt ourselves and others. I need to find my accountability, and I am finding strength in the hope that maybe I can help at least one person who sees themselves in these words. 

So, they will stay as they are. I hope they do not bring me messages of pity, but rather of support and strength. 

……………………….

After an hour of sitting outside the clinic, help was offered to me by someone I love very much. He walked with me inside, on my time, and soothed my frayed nerves as I waited to confront my demons. 

I have a long way to go, and there is so much work to be done. I think about cutting every day, and the urge is strong. But I took those first steps, and I am aware now that mental health is a long game, not one to be dealt with quickly and then forgotten about. I need regular counselling sessions. I need better ways of coping. I need people in my life who can hold me accountable, kick me in the pants when I need it, and wrap me in loving arms when I am filled with pain and terrible urges. And, mostly, I need forgiveness for myself.