13.12.2015
Autor: antoniêta | Publicado: 2015-12-13T01:50:00-03:00


I wouldn’t go as far as self-diagnosing myself as someone who’s got a mental illness. That seems a little much, considering I’m nowhere near having the authority – or maybe the guts – to do so.&nbsp;



The problem is, from time to time – and that’s just me trying to soften how actually frequent it is –, I can’t seem to keep myself together. I just seemingly randomly fall apart. And it takes a whole lot of time to go back to my, say, normal self.&nbsp;



I mean, I obviously know life’s full of ups and downs. So, sometimes you’re okay and sometimes you’re not. That’s normal and happens to everyone, right? No one’s happy all the time, because that’s impossible.&nbsp;



But I can’t help but think that people tend to feel bad for a reason. Like, you can pinpoint a specific event that just sent everything spiraling out of control.&nbsp;



Except that’s not how it happens with me.&nbsp;



My breakdowns come with no warning. One minute I’m fine, the next, I feel like the whole world is crashing down and I just can’t breathe.&nbsp;



It’s physically painful. It hurts in my head, it hurts in my arms, it hurts in my stomach.&nbsp;

I can’t say what’s wrong; I can’t tell you what happened. I can’t even describe the feeling.&nbsp;



And that’s what led me to believe I’m actually getting worse – along with how even more frequent my episodes have become.&nbsp;



I used to write it all out.&nbsp;



I would feel bad, sit down and translate it into words. Knowing what the problem was and knowing that getting it out through writing would make me feel better.&nbsp;



But for the last couple of years, I can’t anymore.&nbsp;



I have all theses feelings bottled up. All these insecurities piling up. All these worries eating me out. But I can’t seem to translate them.&nbsp;



I can’t get them out.&nbsp;



I can’t deal with them like I used to.



Something shifted and the aftermath doesn’t seem to be all that better.&nbsp;

And lately I just seem to be losing my grasp on it more and more.&nbsp;



I couldn’t possibly rationalize the last few times I collapsed.

I couldn’t possibly justify it, either.&nbsp;



Why was I literally sobbing on the bathroom floor?&nbsp;

I don’t know.&nbsp;

I have no idea, other than the fact that my chest hurt so much and the pain was so intense that I couldn’t hold myself up.&nbsp;



I literally fell, because I didn’t have the strength to stay upright.&nbsp;



"Yeah, but… what happened?"

I don’t know.&nbsp;



Triggers happened.&nbsp;

Triggers keep happening.&nbsp;



I don’t know what they are or how they work. I don’t understand what’s going on.&nbsp;

But that’s the closest to an explanation that I can get.&nbsp;



I am fine, until something triggers me, and then I’m not fine anymore.&nbsp;



I suppose this could happen to mentally stable people, as well, but… mentally healthy people aren’t supposed to feel this broken this often, are they?&nbsp;



I don’t think so.&nbsp;



You’re not meant to cry on the bathroom floor for no apparent reason every other week.

You’re not supposed to feel afraid of nothing and everything all of a sudden.



I guess.

I don’t know.&nbsp;



I just…&nbsp;

I don’t know.&nbsp;



I have no idea.



And it makes it all a whole lot worse.



I don’t want to be mentally ill.

I don’t want to be diagnosed with depression. Or anxiety. Or any of those things.&nbsp;

I want to be okay. &nbsp;More okay than I am right now.&nbsp;



I want to not feel cornered by triggers. And want the world to stop crumbling when nothing’s caused it.&nbsp;



I need to feel whole again.&nbsp;