I would like to take this time to introduce myself and the world I live in. Before you get excited there should be a note that you have yet to see anger like this. Before you run and show someone else this blog know that you have yet to see disillusionment like this. Its the plot. Its the scenery, the characters and the villains. Some will understand my world even when I can’t; and some will be lost by the first word.
My whole life, everything that I am, everything that I will be, my family, my marriage is wrapped up in a disease that some God decided I deserved. Some God thought that it didn’t matter that I was a good person or thought about the fact that I am not always strong. Some God decided to give me a sickness that takes away every iota that is me. Some God decided that having my brain destroyed, so it doesn’t recognize evil, gave me a mental illness.
I use God as the reason for this disease but the truth is the same words could be applied to any entity that considers life a toy to play with. Any thing that forgot that children aren’t supposed to die from a disease they can’t pronounce, or that a loving woman with three children isn’t supposed to die suddenly, without warning, in front of the children she would die for. Any being that decided that taking away the mind is not wrong; the God that believes that I can jump those hurtles is crossing a line that I may not forgive.
My world? My world turns small and large equally spaced circles over and over in that wheat field no one knows where is. My world repeats itself over and over again despite the steps that I take to prevent it. Each turn of the arc is another side of the disease that I was required to understand three months ago and somehow having to learn all over again. It goes round and round and there is no stop lever that will allow me to finally get off.
I live in a place that requires that every word I say leads and falls toward persons swearing to help instead being discriminating. I have to worry about my family and their understanding about who and what they are to me and what they wanted me to be, and I have suppress my world and move it deep inside of me because of the words I say are considered dangerous. It is considered that I am dangerous.
My world consists of two incredible children. Children who are forced to live with a woman such as I. Children who have to learn coping skills to handle the moods better than most adults. Children who are required to be someone’s reason for living although they don’t even know death. And every day I have to fear that they will be taken away. Taken away for their safety; taken from me because someone somewhere decided that I was broken. Someone I don’t know thought I was unworthy.
And maybe I am not worthy; I haven’t gotten to that part of this journey. I know that because of my disease I can’t look at myself in the mirror without dressing me down better than any drill Sargent. I know that I have to be cautious around even those who swear they love me the most because my feelings, my abilities are directly affected by them. And it doesn’t matter if they know it, or forget it, I spend most of my life in this world suppressing everything I can in order to survive the night. Because otherwise I lose more than I have to give.
This disease requires of it physical pain to justify its being. In order for my world to know if I am alive, they have to thread it with pain. Sometimes the pain is easier to understand than others. Sometimes the pain is worth knowing so I can never see the other side of that coin. Sometimes I live in pain without knowing if I have a problem or if my mind has just decided to handle the winds in this matter. I don’t know when I am whole and when there is less of me.
I am exhausted trying to pretend that walking into this world is comfortable. I am so tired of having to pretend that I am available even for simplest of hellos. I am tired of the panic attacks, the fear, the besiege of emotions that hits me anytime I leave the world that is around me. I am tired of not being able to handle a person much less a crowd. I am tired of not being able to sit and make friends despite how easy it would be. I am tired of not being able to look someone in the eye; I am tired of forgetting who is on my side and who would like me to die.
The voices each and every day taking from me the right to think. The voices take my dreams and destroy them as easily as I am destroyed; for there isn’t enough room for the fairy tale. They hit in the vulnerable craters of my mind and spirit, and never take for granted that what I fear has never gone away.
I am tired of not understanding. Not understanding those things in this world that seem to cause other’s greatest happiness. I don’t understand people that would rather talk to their friends then see their son hit a home run. I don’t understand people who can’t stop and help no matter circumstances. I don’t understand people who take all that they have been given and all they have been spared and not know there are others who suffer each moment. I am tired of not understanding the happiness of putting someone down, of teasing them, of making them feel inadequate. I am filled with sorrow because I will never be able to survive in that world.
I never know what to do with the anger when I think about the fact that everything I see and feel today will be there another day. I never know what to do with the fact that over and over again I will be destroyed. I don’t know how to find that one place of perfect safety that I can finally rest in. I never know the purpose of my world.
I don’t have the skill but the anger. I don’t have the hope but I have the pity. I don’t have the reason but I know the question. I don’t have the love but I have the destruction. I don’t have the understanding but I have the doubt.
This is the world that I live in; a small, claustrophobic space that will never encourage the spreading of wings. This is the world that I will die in. This is the world that I will separate myself into simply to survive the darts of those who don’t know me at all.
I will spend the rest of my life on this journey always sick. I will fall much farther than I will climb and I will search for that one place that is safe and secure. Because maybe in that place my world will finally open.