Note: No, I do not write like this for sympathy. I am not crying out for attention. I am baring myself so that others need not, if they are not yet ready or comfortable or if they need to know that they are not alone. Please do not pity me. Write words of support. Write about what works for you. Write positive posts to friends who may need it.
Me -- Michael, Mike, Parker, The Butcher, MUPP, I want to help outwards, not hurt inwards; to put my very personal concerns to a place where they may do some good. I very much want to do some good.
Ever had a bout of nausea or a sudden striking headache? Seems like they come just out of nowhere...Well, here I am today with my own special troubles. I said I would try and remove filters, to write and speak more about my own mental health.
Here goes:
Today, I awoke in a fine mood, back still hurting but mind feeling strong and in charge. Around an hour ago my mind decided to veer off the road of rationality, into a ditch of confusion, anxiety, agitation, racing thoughts...It gives me tremors. I dropped most of my much-needed medicine down the sink drain, on accident, because of shaking hands.
Now, the cliched curtain of darkness is falling over my body. I am tired, cannot sleep. Hungry, the idea of eating makes me nauseous. An overwhelming desire to do something, thoughts racing too rapidly to grasp on to one idea coupled with an overwhelming desire to fold into the couch and not move.
This little bit of typing is about all I can manage at the moment. That realization brings on a new wave of negativity. Wanted thewildbutcher.com to have a new recipe today. It is in my head, I know what I want to do, but cannot visualize the steps nor motivate my body to do the work.
Fuck. Just yesterday, my mood was much better, yet my back kept me out of the kitchen.
Again, look at me today and you will see the not-so-subtle signs of depression and anxiety. Head hung low, eyes barely able to stay open, but not able to completely shut to help me sleep. Back is still in pain, even if it were not, you would notice the slouch and slump. When I walk, my feet hardly leave the ground, keeping me shuffling on the floor and dragging my toes.
I try to pick something positive, a mental totem to lift my spirits. Here it is -- a stupid little bunch of words on social media. After too many years writing about my problems, sharing them, has become a third leg of my therapy. Sharing, I believe, may help others who are not yet ready to share, are shamed into not sharing, or who just plain do not want to share. I understand.
A harsh choice of mine now forces me to share my experiences. The therapeutic value may not be very rewarding, but to hope and know that there is someone out there, in my friends list or friends of friends, whatever...
To know that there is someone who may be comforted by my writings on my own issues, learning that, indeed, they are not alone. That there are others...That there are others like you, like me. It may be a small comfort, however, it is some comfort.
