Somehow during this crazy rollercoaster of a ride we call life, I got lost along the way, which happens more often than I can manage at times these days, and I need to be found.
Unfortunately, as I have learnt through first hand experience and others, being trapped within yourself can be the most soul destroying, heart breaking confinement to witness, be a part of or break out of, impacting and influencing in the most extraordinarily confusing ways, sometimes unanswerable, taught or learnt.
Being able to pin point the exact moment has almost run its course of creational destruction, testing my self-control too breaking point, evolutionary and innovatively original ways of thinking or reacting, a necessity.
The only way it can be narrowed down, detached whilst still attached and uninfluenced, is too categorise it into one manageably intangible label, by combining fiction and reality, enabling the birth of ‘Lilly Falls’, becoming tangible and real, unavoidable, the demand and need to great for myself and those closest.
My survival instincts and fight or flight reactors have kicked in, my walls coming up protecting where I once may have been vulnerable, because I showed weakness in a way that caused personal repulsions. I allowed myself to become covered and drenched in self-pity, self-hated, self-sabotage, self-destruction, felt like a little girl, lost.
This is usually done privately but was witnessed by another, becoming my disabilities instead leaving me no choice but to rebel, slamming through the wall instead of hiding behind it, my feet grounded and rooted.
This behaviour and outlook shouldn’t be the reflection of this mother of 2 in a relationship, a 30 year old female who really needs to pull herself together in my opinion. This questionable cycle is my constant or so it seems to be the case the majority of the time, but no more.
Hopefully the process will speed up after I meet with the clinical psychologist, but there are things I can do in the mean time. Breathing, voicing and asking the question, “what do I do now”, because these waiting processes take longer at times, than the time frame it takes for my mental health to deteriorate.
I think the reality is my pride and dignity felt lost and truly clueless, as I seen myself through different eyes. I did not like the emotions portrayed in them or their accuracy, giving me my sight and drive back, where I once was blindly lost
Most of my answers have come from the silent, unspoken or hidden words desperately needing voiced, behind the lens.
I’ve spent years manipulating myself into a tangle, or so it appears rewiring my brain to the point the originality of the foundations I was built on top off, can no longer be seen. The other day during an appointment sparked and fuelled this way of thinking, intentionally or not, but welcomed with a warm embrace. My story is pitifully desperate and pathetic, filled with self-loathing and hatred, taught by many a harsh lesson and revolutionary discovery, but their is a bright side.
Because I breathed the words or dared say them aloud to someone truly listening, and proving by actions not just words, left no room for delusions or hiding in my head. Every time I look back I see where I have worded things wrong, but a complete deliberate but methodical way in answering more questions, at too rapid a speed for normal conversation.
I am beginning to believe by confusing and tangling everything, it allows me to manage my emotions or chemical balances, maybe for analysis I wonder, because I feel vulnerably exposed or desperate, almost demandingly avoidant. It’s something I have always done, but I am becoming consciously more aware of making it easier to realise, but yet still continuously happening in a somewhat more manageable way.
I had a moment where I truly realised how lost I had become, I felt pitifully pathetic and started the amazing delusional act of self-destruction. I am my worst critic, a former crisis nurse I no longer have, saved me from myself time and time again once said to me, I was really hard on myself, this is intentional because my words are bluntly harsh when relating to myself. By being this way it knocks me off the one way ticket down the black hole of abyss I like to refer to as anxiety and depression. I’ve had to be this to bring me back to reality, to find or prevent myself from becoming lost or trapped.
I’m damaged doesn’t take a genius, or a degree to work that out. From a young age I’ve found myself saying this brain, that is able to learn and do things different from the ‘norm’, is a curse. This journey with mental health has taught me, that curse is a gift if learnt how to control, a neurological disorder coinciding with psychological disorders that disable me, nobody understood or could explain in my circles at the time, but I’m told I will get, because they are there, and will have access to them at some point in the future.
Believe me you, that is not the first time I have heard those words but no actions to solidify, but believe you me I think I do now, because of the determination, sincerity and passion behind them, matching her eyes. That has me believing that there are still people holding the heart of this national health system in their hands, keeping it beating manually, patience and determination to never give up has led me right to them. I hope to be saying the words I’ve only been able too read or hear from others before, in my future. Made possible and thanks to those from my past and present.
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