This Isn’t Real

I had a hallucination last night while my husband was not home. I could have gotten hurt. Maybe even quite hurt had I not “woken” up. I don’t know any other way to say it. I guess I could say, Come back to reality.  I tried to make a ladder with a mish mash of things in our shed. The plan was to get my body, which was very cold and dead, down from the noose which it was hanging from.  What I chose to make the “ladder” with was very unstable, and well just not viable or realistic. I attempted to climb on top, but as would be expected I fell backwards.  I hit the wall, which is made of cinderblock.  This is what jostled me.  In that moment, looking at what I was doing, looking up for something that wasn’t there, I was able to remind myself “this isn’t real, this isn’t real.” This is the much needed mantra I have adopted to help me out of a hallucination when I am by myself. It works sparingly.

I left everything as it was and fled the shed. As I got back to my kitchen and sat down, I could feel anger welling deep inside me. I had no one to call. So I took to my virtual pen and paper to expel the pain. I am writing this to the devil or whatever evil spirit that keeps taunting me:

Can there be no fucking respite? Can I not just have one night to myself. Please explain to me what this is all about. Please step up and show yourself. Tell your story. Accuse me. Blame me. I need to know what it is I have done to deserve this. This torture. This agonizingly slow passing of time where I am at risk of being assaulted.  Assaulted by invisible fucking things by most respects. I tip toe around the corner because I don’t know what might be coming. If you are here please stand tall. I can’t play hide and seek much longer. I don’t like your game, your style, your vicious chanting. I may not be innocent but I am not evil. I will repent. I will make it right. I beg of you to bring the truth forward. Help me solve this painful riddle. Help me out of this maze of confusion and chaos. I can change, if that’s it. I can be quiet. I can be better.  Whatever it is, I can adjust myself.  Until I know what needs to be addressed I am left with this fear. Please, that seems so unfair. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m trying to accept what is before me. As the days drag on it gets harder not easier. I simply don’t understand.
The tears keep falling as I slowly collapse on the inside.  If it’s defeat you are looking for, declare yourself the victor right now. Take the trophy. Carry it proud. I am weak in the knees. Deflated. Beaten.  I would think this is enough. But no, you just keep coming at me. Please just let me be.

I cried so many tears as I wrote this.  I felt empowered, broken, flawed, alone and beaten all at once. I think I wanted these words to be more powerful in the sense that I was standing my ground.  But, I have to honor where I was at that moment. Let the words hold the power as they are.  There is still time for more pungent rhetoric.  This feels like a battle and I may not have won yesterday, but there is a second chance today.

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2 thoughts on “This Isn’t Real

  1. Im just wondering, if you dont mind sharing, are you only just diagnosed with bipolar? Bc if you are i think you need to look in rediagnosis as you are hallucinating a lot and thats not normal for bipolar usually. Maybe they can also help you with some different meds?

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