Sorry everyone, but the second part of "Being Your Own Saviour" is going to have to wait. You see, I have been writing and I just have to post it!
Sometimes when I'm feeling down (and I mean, quite-a-bit down versus gosh-what-a-bad-day down) the only thing to do is find some way to vent my feelings. A lot of the time, the best method for me has turned out to be creative writing... Although why that comes as a surprise I have no idea.
I'm posting it because it provides a bit more insight into mental illness. There are little bits of imagery in there that describe the feeling pretty accurately (or so I think, anyway) and also some small things that I could have related to before my illness (and I have therefore concluded that this post is relatable to the down moments in everyone's lives). It also serves as a reminder to myself that if we give up, we've lost so much already- so whatever you do, whenever in life you do it, DON'T GIVE UP!
Hope it gives you something to think about.
Love always,
Em xx
Sometimes when I'm feeling down (and I mean, quite-a-bit down versus gosh-what-a-bad-day down) the only thing to do is find some way to vent my feelings. A lot of the time, the best method for me has turned out to be creative writing... Although why that comes as a surprise I have no idea.
I'm posting it because it provides a bit more insight into mental illness. There are little bits of imagery in there that describe the feeling pretty accurately (or so I think, anyway) and also some small things that I could have related to before my illness (and I have therefore concluded that this post is relatable to the down moments in everyone's lives). It also serves as a reminder to myself that if we give up, we've lost so much already- so whatever you do, whenever in life you do it, DON'T GIVE UP!
Hope it gives you something to think about.
Love always,
Em xx
Who’s afraid of the deep, dark sea?
Nothing hurts, but everything hurts. There’s a little girl called Consciousness. She’s living in a lifeless, pale body. She can move the body, but sometimes she can’t be sure if she’s really there. She’s you.
It’s as if you’ve just stepped out of a pitiless sea. A sea of dull loneliness, it has no colour, and no life. Everything is monotone. It’s like the dust on the boxes at the back of your closet, or the dregs left behind from your evening tea. Often people just wash it away, but you were caught. Instead of washing it away, it washes you away.
And you’ve surfaced, taking great gasps full of air. It feels like trying to inhale the universe in one gulp. You’ve barely felt the grains of sand against the soles of your feet, but it’s there nonetheless. You’ve hit land. You’re saved?
No. You want the universe, but the universe couldn’t care less.
Now there’s land underneath your feet, you’re starting to see things. In the distance, you can see people. There’s just a hint of sunset, a spattering of boardwalk, a dash of purple café, a sparkling of forest-green. And you know that there’s a circus to follow: that behind the sun-scorched dunes lie a plethora of giggles, an passionate off-key song, a soggy sandwich on a sunny day. So many unimaginable and amazing things, if only you keep moving forward.
Then, you notice the distance. The little patch of life seems so far away, like an ant observed through the wrong end of a telescope. There’s so far to travel. You have a dry orange desert of worry to cross, filled with its famous Quicksand à la Despair, and a side serving of sugar-free Suffocation Tart. Nobody will be there to clear away the trays. And you begin to wonder whether the trip is worth it.
No. You want the world, but the world couldn’t care less.
The thing about setting foot on land for the first time in forever is that there is nobody there to greet you. Instead there is the stretch of barren land before you, desolate and dry. There is no laughing, no crying, and no emotion. Not a word spoken, not even your own. You’re not even sure if you still have your voice with you.
But there’s that small patch of hope in the distance. It seems little now, but surely it’ll get bigger. It will be wonderful. It’s a long way away, but there are people there… There’s a whole world waiting. There are Canadian safaris with speckled gorillas and three-foot dinosaurs. There’s the Eiffel Bakery and that little country where the people eat airplanes for breakfast. And there’s your family. For so long, you’ve only been able to dream of them. The world is waiting…
No. You want the people, but the people couldn’t care less.
Black. You can’t see, and when you can’t see it follows logically that you can’t breathe either. Or move. Or do anything. No. The desert is choking you. You have to do something. But you can’t. You can't.
Blur. Yellow haze. Orange haze. Desert. Dry. Dust. Dirt, down, doom.
Suddenly, everything comes into focus. You can see again, and you can breathe. Tiny, even gulps of air, just enough to stay alive. You can see every grain of sand. You can see the crocheted desert pattern, shades of yellow and orange and pink and red for miles. You can see the jagged rock with the evil grin from miles away. But your patch of hope is not there.
And finally, you crash back to reality. None of that nonsense about purple monkeys, or whatever it was. You were having a mirage. Honestly, what were you thinking? There’s no such thing as happiness. The only thing across the desert is more desert. The world was made that way. Some people are strong, and find contentment in their mud huts and dusty bread, but you are not. You can’t see the point.
Time goes. Time leaves. Or passes. Or whatever.
You’re submerged all the way up to your deadened eyes, in dregs of tea. You can feel the currents of the dust, brushing past and collecting your light. You’re disintegrating, but don’t worry. Your body is still there. See?
Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of bright, leafy green. You turn your head, and suddenly the patch is there again: the tumbling of candelabra kittens and the rainbow slippery-dip ending at your house. Your little mirage, the one that gave you false hope before… But it’s closer. It can’t be more than a few miles, surely! But the silent black ripples of the sea begin to feel heavy. They want you. You stare down at them, and when you look up you see nothing but desert. You finally realise that you’ve been tricked a second time. It was so easy. Does the world really hate you that much? You’ve done nothing to it. Why can’t it just leave you be? As you begin to sink again, the darkness seeps straight through your skin. You don’t care any more. The world has given you false hope. There is nothing for you. You hate everything.
The last thing you see is beautiful, you suppose. The happy world has come back. It is a lot of colour, the carnival brought back to life again. The world is having a party. There are jugs of jelly. There are wild animals. There are games. There is music. Food too. There is dancing. There are people there. They are talking to each other. It is a fun party. Not to mention, the world has invited you. All you have to do is RSVP by the correct date (using the correct phone number).
No. No thanks. The world wants you, but you couldn’t care less.
You are breathing, don’t get me wrong. You’re not that desperate, you’re still here. It’s just enough to stay alive- though, not enough to live.