Thursday, October 20, 2016


There are voices in my head.  They say ugly things to me and make me feel like so much less than I'm told I am.  They sound like my husband, my family members, my friends and sometimes sound like me.  Usually not, but sometimes.

It's like trying to hold water in a paper basket.  Hold for a minute or three, then it starts to drip, run until finally it ruins the basket entirely and the water is overwhelming and I can't handle it anymore.  That's when it's time for anti-anxiety meds.  Which I loathe taking because of the simple fact that they make me drowsy.

The voices lie.  A lot.  Most of the time.  They tell me things that aren't there, that I'm reading into that I shouldn't.  Sometimes they tell me the truth; things that have been said in the past or things that I know are thought.  It's hard to separate the truth from the lies.

The voices have obscured vision but see everything.  They can actually see things clearly when it's most inconvinient; people who tolerate you but really don't like you, people who assume the worst in you for whatever reason, those little moments where you catch that micro expression glimpse of being loathed, feared or worse, put up with.  You can tell.  I can tell.

The voices even like to tell me that the nice things I try to do in order to counter-balance the ugliness inside of me and around me aren't good, but selfish and worthless.  That there's nothing redeeming about me, nobody notices, nobody cares.  The world wouldn't be worse without me, but better.

I try to fight the voices.  Every moment of every day, I try to fight.  It's tiring.  It's hard.  I lose a lot of the time.  I sometimes wish I could just drift away and be at peace.  I try to tell myself that some day, I will look back on all of this and laugh, realizing it gave me strength or some nonsense like that.  The truth is that I feel so alone and so lost.  I cling to things I shouldn't, but do anyways because of the simple fact that I can't detect maliciousness in it.  Which says a lot because after what happened, I don't trust anyone anymore.

The voices and I have been joined for years and I'm sure we'll be together until the day I finally get to close my eyes and sleep.  I want to silence them, mute them or at least turn down the volume sometimes, but they're loud, they're persistent and they seem to know where my weak places are.

Which is pretty much everywhere.

1 comment:

~mich said...

A big, long, rubbing your back HUG