Crazy and Abandoned
I’m a sane person trapped in the mind of a crazy guy. I say it often; I feel it always. I’m banging on the bars wishing for someone to let me out, but there isn’t a door.
I’ve retreated. I know I have. I feel it. I stare at the ceiling wondering why. What’s the point? Why should I get up today? Who will notice?
It’s been like this a few weeks now. It has taken me a while to figure it out. I have fought hard to not fall into some pit. My voice has been silent. It still is. I have to make it talk. Every word is forced.
I gave a voice to a child and he has gone. He’s taken most of me with him. It has made me cold. Blank. Nasty to some extent. I know I am doing it, yet I don’t know how to stop it.
I don’t want to talk. It isn’t that I have nothing to say. It is that I don’t see the point in saying. I feel my worthlessness once more. It shrouds me like a dark blanket.
I’m forgetting what I am fighting for.
Abandonment caused this. I can reason. I can tell myself to shut up and deal with it, but my mind isn’t listening. It’s a hard issue to face and to even understand. I’m only just getting it myself.
I’ve learned that it’s a trigger. The slightest abandonment and I am triggered to no end. Anything from a cancelled meet up with friends, to the end of a relationship. It brings out not the feelings of the current situation, but years and years of abandonment. It makes me react bigger than the situation warrants.
It turns every insult back on myself. I have not looked in a mirror for weeks; no more than I have to. I lower my eyes when I pass one. It’s almost done without a thought now.
I cancelled a house party invite because my first thought was, why did they invite me? Necessity? I don’t fit in. There or anywhere, so I didn’t go. That is a chance to see the disappointment of me reflected in the eyes of others avoided.
It’s a slippery slope going backwards, and the sane part of me is digging his feet in and trying to hold on. But I feel the crazy part is going to win out. The child inside. The sad part that doesn’t want to talk anymore.
He got abandoned a few weeks ago. I hacked up my arms and almost got myself hospitalised (see above for overreactions) and now I’ve detached.
I have no tools to come back. No way to look at what happened and not feel every single bit of pain from that and every other moment it brought up and triggered off, like a chain reaction in a mine field.
It is the same lesson time and time again.
Maybe I should just learn it and graduate.