My mental health to me.

My Mental Health to me
For me
It's endless nights of crying
sometimes.
It's not knowing how to process things
and feeling numb sometimes.
It's knowing you should smile
You should laugh.
And knowing when I do those things
I'm bullshitting you.
It's being a professional liar
It's someone asking how you are
and you replying with 'I'm great'.
Instead of simply saying
'I don't know how I'm feeling'
Or
'I'm feeling cold and empty'
or
'I feel like the crying will never stop'
It's there being no continuity
And when you cry,
It physically pains your chest
nose bleeds, coming out in hives, throwing up.
It's your fragile body crumbling 
with your decaying mind and your barely there heart.
It's not caring sometimes
even though you know you should.
It's phasing out one second
and wanting a hug the next.
It's knowing you love people
but not feeling that love.
It's knowing that people love you
but not feeling it soak into your skin.
It's hearing sounds, but not listening to words
It's feeling like you're floating
every move you make as though running through water
because you're there but you're not there.
It's exploding and letting the hurt come out
lashing all around you
and damaging the people close to you
or at least that's how it feels.
It's tearing at your flesh
clawing away until you feel physical pain
because it's better than feeling emotionally dead
or emotionally tortured.
Nothing correlates, nothing makes sense,
yet you still try.
It's feeling claustrophobic
it's people thinking you're rude
because you forget to say please or thank you
hey, getting out of bed is exhausting enough
please don't make me socially interact.
It's sleeping for weeks at a time
It's putting on a face for work
and then sleeping some more
but then it's not sleeping at all
it's drawing and writing at 3 am
It's hearing voices in your head
reminding you of every sin
every insecurity
It's feeling trapped but lonely
It's begging for help
begging for closure
but not getting any clarity.
It's acceptance - no, that's a lie
It's trying.
It's fighting.
It's surviving
but feeling like you're not living.
It's wanting someone to kiss you
but fearing you'll seep poison on to their tongue
It's realising that these are all fragments of you
that also deserve acceptance and love
but running in the opposite direction
because you hate yourself
even though you don't want to.
It's knowing that this is your oldest friend
It's knowing there is no cure
and that it doesn't simply 'get better'
You just get used to it
except that you don't.
So really, it's just trying
and trying and fighting and trying
but on those good days,
it's knowing that you're surviving. 

I'm not in a good place right now.
I am sitting here with caustic soda to my right, just imagining how much easier things would be if I were to just swallow it.

I'm not nice to be around. I know that. I am seeping poison from the wounds that are leaking over from my mind. I am toxic.
Or I just feel that way.

When someone hurts you in the worst way possible. You know the way I'm talking of.
The one where you're crying and feeling like your precious flower has been destroyed. It kills a part of you. It fucking kills you. Not only are you left with emotional scars, that take years to be beaten. But you're left with physiological damage too. It's disheartening. Do you know how many people don't understand 'no'? How many people accuse you of being a freak, or weird, because your body isn't reacting the way it should? A lot of people don't consider the fact that I need to feel safe. My body needs to feel that safety.

I am inadvertently pushing people away. Because it feels like people always leave. And maybe it won't hurt or disappoint me so much if I push them away first. I know that's bullshit though. But I can't stop myself. Someone sabotaged my very essence by removing my consent, by removing my control. I guess pushing people away is how I gain some form of control.

I know I have spent many years being courageous and strong. By myself. But this time it's different. This time, the emotions, the darkness is caused by physiological means. Apparently it will take time to leave my system, but how much time? How much time will I have to hope and pray for my light to just return?

I used to be the girl that embraced my sexuality, who wrote prose with such sexual passion. Who wasn't ashamed to promote my vivaciousness. But it's been knocked out of me. If I told my friends, that 'hey, look, he followed me out from work one day. Got in my head. Please help me block him out', would any of them understand or care? My PTSD is out of my control right now. I am no longer just triggered by men. But by women. By friends being flirtatious with me. Even friends I work with joking around and flirting with me like they used to is triggering for me. And I try to not let it happen. I try so hard not to be triggered. I'm constantly apologising for it. Sometimes it affects me, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I recoil, sometimes I try to explain it. But I don't think I do a very good job. But imagine someone coming home from war, who had his leg blown off jumping at the slightest banging sound. But then other times they're fine.  It's like that. That's how PTSD works. I didn't need therapy to tell me that. I needed people in a sexual survivor group to explain to me. My PTSD is only so bad because of the physiological damage that resulted in the psychological effect.

 People ask me how things make sense in my brain. Well, they don't. How can they right now? I'm so plagued with not even knowing my own mind. It's frustrating for me, but I can't just click my fingers and be okay again. I need time. I need patience. I need support and I need to be willing to let people in.

This post might be triggering for some. But I feel not enough people highlight what being a survivor actually entails. I know that I AM strong - I get out of bed, I go to work. I function, but at home without that routine I am falling to pieces. Loathing every part that someone else has touched. I just don't always feel that I am strong, despite having the logic to know I must be.

What can people do for me? I've had people ask me.

• Hug me
• Don't criticise me for crying
• Understand why I have boundaries that seemingly come from nowhere 
• Understand that I'm not meaning to hurt others, only myself
• Please, don't let me hurt myself. Please don't. 
• Tell me a thousand times that I have value, even if I argue against it. Tell me until I start to believe it. Until I start to feel it. 
• Tell me what actually makes me special, what makes me beautiful. 
• Be the overbearing voice that outshines the one he left on me. 

If I'm ranting to you. Opening up, believe it or not, it means I'm fighting. I'm fighting the darkness, trying to survive.
I'm turning to you because I trust you, because I feel safe with you.

So here I am, with a bottle of caustic soda next to me. It would be so much easier to end it all with it. But the fragile girl I could not help, deserves more than that. I will rise.

This is the reality of endless abuse. I am strong, but I need support. I need someone to just hug me. I need someone to just say that they care. This needed to be written about. This is reality. This isn't some fictious programme that portrays assault with either the victim becoming a sexual deviant or a suicide victim. This is my life. And I am telling you, I am trying to survive. And if it ever was that I lose this fight, I didn't kill myself. He did.

I just wanted to write this out. To be raw. To be real. To distract from the darkness in my head.

Hate/Love

I don't hate love
though people tell me that I should
for the number of times it's left me broken
The truth is, I don't think I can be loved
despite me being endearing, and kind, and caring
I'm always placed upon a shelf.

I thought that turning myself off was the answer
why should I love if no one ever feels it for me?
Why should I indeed
The reality is, I'm glad that I love
because it means I do everything with the best intention
I know I've spent nights crying
over friends that have hurt me, girls that couldn't deserve me

But still, I don't hate love
I dislike the pain that comes with it
but people hurt you, that's what they do
it happens sometimes, they don't always mean it
Okay, sometimes they do.
But without love, how can we have the ability to grow?

I could roll myself into this mould
hidden behind a concave made of steel and dynamite
I could tell people, I'm undesirable, to leave me alone
Just, please, go away
But in actuality, I'm just hoping someone will stay
I don't need anyone to love me
So I'll always survive, it would just be nice
if someone could look at me with a decent smile
and say "Hey, I'm not ashamed, nor will I ever be"

So I guess, even though I feel things that people
laugh at me for. I cry sometimes, and the cruel ones
mock me for it. But despite all this.
I know
That my strength is my weakness.
But my weakness is my strength.

I don't hate love.
I    simply     hate    the    heartache.

Way too egotistical.

So, let's just talk this through
about how I'm bitter you don't want me
in the same way in which I want you
and this makes me feel even more lonely

I know this is some form of self-obsession
I didn't set out with this narcissistic intention
and I guess when  I say I'm hating myself lately
I'm hating that I can't move past this intensity
of not understanding, of not gaining any clarity

I don't know how much of it was me hoping
or maybe just seeing something that wasn't there
I really don't know what I was thinking
expecting you to feel the same notion of care

I know this is some form of self-obsession
I didn't set out with this narcissistic intention
but when you told me I was beautiful
I didn't mean to mark it down as some sort of flirting
yet I did, the same when you said I was pretty, that I'm hot
I saw something in you that you could not
see in me
You were just being nice, but I thought it was something more
It really is rejection, and it's left me feeling sore

And I know I'm selfish, way too egotistical
for reading more into it that wasn't actually there
but I was confused, and I'd rather just hate myself
than delude myself into thinking you could ever care
I was advised to open up, to trust, and you seemed so kind
it's not your fault, of course, it really is mine
being nice doesn't mean that someone owes you
and I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell to do

I can't seem to comprehend
and I know I'm not a good friend
So let's not pretend
we began in that way that gave me hope
and that's why this hurts I guess
But I always knew you'd get bored, lose romantic interest
and even though I half-expected it
it was that ounce of hope that got me hurt
But apparently feeling this way is healthy
because feeling nothing was supposedly worse

And I know I'm selfish
Way too egotistical
I'm not meaning to be this way
I really do care about you
I just wish that hope hadn't been there in the first place
And I know this is a form of self-obsession
I never set out with this narcissistic intention.
I honestly just thought you were the sort to put walls up
and I was confident enough to think that I could get through
I'm an idiot, I realise that now. And I'm sorry if this bothers you.
But I hate myself, please, please just hate me too.