Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Ponderings of a Madwoman

The thing I don’t get about treating mental illness through therapy and counselling is this idea that the ill can talk about how they feel. But you see, the thing that makes us ill, is that we don’t know what’s wrong and so we don’t know how to deal with it. I could make up a million different reasons as to why I am the way I am but it wouldn't change a single thing and would make things worse. I don’t know how I feel or what’s going on in my head. I can be logical or emotional, but these are both controlled and carefully engineered responses I've constructed as a defence mechanism from years of hardship.
I don’t know how we as humans deal with it. This idea of society and culture is all bollocks. In reality we are all savages. Anyone will push another’s head underwater if it means they get to keep theirs above surface. I feel like I cannot trust anyone, because they all leave in the end, leaving behind irreparable scars that I carry with me. If my metaphorical heart were visible to others, they could see how mine struggles to beat under all the pressure. 
Talking about myself in this way only comes about very rarely when I'm in a state of perpetual calm and silence. I relish in these moments when I can speak openly about my noggin. I cannot get to the bottom of this depression, there are too many people to blame. Perhaps the blame is my own for allowing their actions to get to me. Maybe everyone goes through this, some are just better at suppressing it than others. All I can say is that when the depression surfaces as it did today, it feels horrible. Like I'm in a soundproof bubble where no-one can hear or see me clearly and I could scream but it wouldn't make an inch of difference.
I could go on and on about this for ages but the bottom line is that it isn't going to make any difference. I've got to learn to live with myself, let the past be the past and embrace the present. The funny thing about time is that it really isn't appreciated until it’s gone and you’re left pining for it in reflection, forcing every single one of us to dwell in the past, wasting our lives away. 

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