November 21, 2008

I Can't Hide It. Should I Hide It?

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. I can’t control my thoughts. I can’t control them at all. They’re racing, racing, racing. I forgot my pill, I forgot my pill that calms me down. I took my medication this morning but it’s not working. Why is it not working? I can’t type fast enough. I won’t let myself make typos.

12341231234123412341234

Is there a God? I broke down last night and was rocking back and forth like I used to. I was begging anyone to listen to me but I hid from my roommate. I always hide, always hide. I hide everything. I have to. No one can know. I forgot my pill. I forgot my pill. I can’t cry. Not here. Not at work. I can’t let my boss see me break down. No one can know, no one can know. But that doesn’t make sense does it? You know, you’re reading this. Why am I posting this? Am I doing it for attention? Is this all for attention? But why wouldn’t I know? Why would I be so confused? Why can’t I control my brain? Am I pretending? Have I gotten caught up in one of my characters? Have I lost myself? I don’t remember taking my pill out of my bag. I can type but why can’t I calm down? I can’t do this here. I can’t I can’t. Should I post this without typos? Should I post this at all? Why do I post anything? My ramblings are inane. What’s going on with my memory? Why can’t I remember anything? How can I correct my spelling? Why is this happening? What was my trigger? Is it because I read a book where the mother is loving and caring and there? Is that why? Is it my mother? Why is this happening now. I wish I had my pill, then this would stop. Oh god am I going crazy? I don’t want you to worry, I won’t do something stupid. I can’t. I’m strong enough I have to be strong enough. But if I was strong why would this happen? Is it all in my head? What’s normal? Does everyone go through this? Am I really bipolar? Are these just racing thoughts that I don’t want to control? Am I doing this on purpose? Is this normal? How could I be so stupid to take my pill out of my bag. Why does what anyone think matter? Why do I ping people? Why do I assume I know what they’re thinking? I feel like they’re judging me. Everyone is judging me. I’m ugly, they’re laughing at me. My hair, they’re laughing at me. Am I pretending I’m something I’m not? Is this fake? Last night I called my sister but she didn’t pick up, she never picks up. If I really am freaking out like this how can I type? Is it helping? Maybe. I don’t know, I don’t know. Why is this happening now? I was doing ok, I was doing ok. Am I faking it? Why wouldn’t I know, why wouldn’t I stop. Am I having an anxiety attack? Am I panicking? I don’t know, I don’t know. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t I won’t. Don’t call me I’ll cry. I can’t cry. I have to hide it. I have to hide it. Should I go home and get my pill? Will my boss be able to tell? I was late, so late. I couldn’t get out of bed. I am so disgusting. My throat is closing up. I need to breath I need to breath. Why won’t these thoughts stop? Is it because I’m a terrible person? How can I type? Is it fake, am I faking it? I don’t know. How could I be so stupid. Do I need a pill? Does it really work. I’m rocking back and forth. He isn’t here. Should I post this? Will people think I’m crazy? Is it to prove something? Is this real? Is this real? I think it’s stopping. I think it’s stopping. I think the voice stopped. Why am I not strong enough to stop it? Why am I so weak? I hide it, I hide everything. Maybe I’m tired of hiding. I’m filled to the brim and overflowing. I can’t stop it, I can’t stop it. Is this why I push people away? I can’t let them see me like this. Should I up my medication? Should I be on medication? Am I really bipolar or am I faking it? Does everyone have these moments? Why do I care what everyone thinks? I have to hide it I have to hide it. It’s not like I have it bad. My co-workers dad died yesterday. I have it easy I shouldn’t be like this. Am I begging for pity? Why am I freaking out when my life is ok? Why am I so selfish? I want to scratch my arms. I want to focus on something. I won’t I won’t. Then people will ask. I can’t hide it I can’t hide it. Why is this happening to me? I can’t cry, I can’t cry. Maybe if I let go this will stop. Not like let go of life. I can’t do that, I won’t do that. I mean let go and just let the thoughts race instead of fighting it. Or would that lead me to do something stupid? I can’t typo, I can’t typo. It’s coming in waves now. I calm down then it starts but less intense. Is it ending? Should I post this? Should I keep hiding it? Am I really hiding it or can everyone see? Does everyone pity me? Do they like me or are they being nice. I wish I had my pill. Does that make me weak? Am I weak? Why can’t I just stop this on my own? Is it all in my head? Am I just not strong enough? I think it’s done, I think it’s done. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I can hide this. I have to. I have to. Should I post this? Would you think I’m mad? Am I mad? Should I let someone see what happens to me? Rhymes, I wish I could always speak in rhymes. They’re calming, there calming. If I post this, will it drive people away? Should I be honest? Will this ruin my chances of him ever liking me? Why does it matter? I shouldn’t ever be in a relationship. I can’t do it. I’m crazy. It wouldn’t be fair. Why does it matter, why does it matter? Don’t call me, I’ll cry. I can’t cry. Why do I want someone here? Do I? Can I let them see me like this? This happened once before in front of people but I had a pill. How the fuck could I forget my pill? Do I like feeling like this? Am I just a masochist? Do I do this because it’s familiar? Do I like it? Am I pretending I’m crazy? It’s like there’s a scared animal in my chest. Panicking in a cage. I feel it beating in on my chest. Let me out, let me out. Am I confining it? Should I let it out? Will I be free then? Can I be free? Will this ever stop? Is this forever? I. Can’t. Cry. I’m going to post this before I think about it too much. I can’t think about it too much. Am I mad? Should I re-read it? No no. You tell me, is this normal? Am I just weak? Am I just being dramatic? Am I looking for attention? I don’t mean to. I swear I don’t mean to. Do I? How can I write this then? How can I format it? Am I faking? I don’t know I don’t know. I’m shaking now. Should I post this? Am I looking for attention? Or do I want people to see? I'm sorry. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I have to be fine. I'm sorry. So sorry. Something is wrong. He’s here. Have to hide it.

4 comments:

chelsea said...

Hey hey sister, holy hell that was intense to read. I swear, the most interesting thing about me starting my blog, and then meeting you and Pat and our other bipolar buddies is that even though I still feel completely alone when I'm Down The Rabbit Hole like that, I have you guys now, who I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, GET what is going on inside my head when I'm like Down There. Girl, those thoughts have gone through my head almost word for word. Minus the pill and a few other things that were unique to you and your own situation. But I understand completely that feeling of wondering if you're just faking it, if it's really real, how could you be typing like this, etc. Reading that post was really intense for me, which confirms that Yes, it is real. Real on the inside. Maybe to anyone walking by, you just looked like an intensely typing girl. I often wonder when I'm halfway pulling it together on the outside and crumbling on the inside what I must look like to a random observer. I think about that when I'm losing my mind, like, can they tell this is happening in here? They can't. They don't have any clue. I feel for you, and I'm glad you came out of it. I find that sometimes all that fast typing can just at least give an outlet. Especially if you are at work and can't cry. I'm glad you wrote it out, and I think it is brave and wonderful that you shared. People need to know what it's like. You are not crazy, I mean look at you now. You probably have no memory of what you even typed. I have been there SO MANY TIMES. And now, you're just basically "normal" again. Bipolar s confusing, confounding, and totally mysterious. And it sucks. And I get the part where you wonder if you LIKE being like this. I often ask myself that same question when I'm chillin with the Jabberwocky. It is certainly something familiar, isn't it. I wish I knew what our subconscious was trying to do when it takes over like that. Dood. I think it might do you a world of good to find a person who would be willing to hold you while you cry. It sounds like you've got a lot stored up inside that could use some getting out.

Take care, Heather. You are beautiful. God doesn't make junk.

T. said...

Heather, what do you think would happen if people found out about you? Most people that know you already do and we all still love you!!!!!!!! For the people who dont know about your "issiue" WHO GIVES A FUCK if they found out!!!!!!!I promis the world will not come to an end, your not crazy, i have had mind racing thoughts like that before.Your a good person who just falls off her wagen every now and then......and guess what? SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE!!!I also hope you know you can call me anytime you want at any time of the day, I promis you i'm the last person that would freak out on you. Unless your head can spilt into 2 and an alian pops out, then i will freak out!

Paddym22 said...

Heather, my apologies I missed this blog and feel awfully guilty not being there for you. What an awful nightmare experience. You are not alone and never far from my thoughts.

With respect and love

Pat

+/- said...

I'm not sure if I've ever typed this to you before, but it might make it easier to revisit later, for you:
There's a certain "comfort" we all find with the... common, the familiar. It's like people that get in abusive relationships: They're familair. They don't necessarily LIKE to get the shit beaten out of them, but to them, that's what "love" is. I remember feeling GUILTY when I was happy before. I've had bouts with.. depression? I don't know. I was never diagnosed with anything really. But one thing I can tell you, you are strong. To open yourself like that to anyone or everyone is very brave, and I know it took a lot out of you to not delete it.

And like "T" said, we all know, and we all still love you. And really, if it "bothers" someone, who cares? Do they matter in the long run? Will he be forgotten months down the road? Or the hurtful words will stay. I know they will. The hurt stays better than the good. And that's a shame.