By Maria Nias
It feels so unfair when the fog descends after an especially good period.
I wake up and I think “Again?!”
I’m so angry at myself, but I can’t change. There’s nothing I can do to stop.
“I’m so sick of feeling… it’s ruined my life..” *
On my bad days I don’t even get up.
On my really bad days I pretend. I go through the motions. I pretend everything is ok, while avoiding those who truly know me because they will see.
But while I pretend, I pray, I pray to God or any higher being, “Please! Get me out of this, please! Please!.. Please?”
Then, with a grave understanding I realise I am alone. Not because no one cares, or because no one is there, or there to help, but because I dug that hole.
I am dying in the hole that I dug. And I can’t accept help out of a hole I dug because they won’t even understand why I dug it in the first place; even I don’t know why I dug it!
And because I dug that hole, no matter who is there to watch or witness my pain, I am the only person that can get myself out of it.
There are no miracles
There is no miracle drug, or cure or person or action.
There are weeks where I feel I can take on the world, then weeks where the world has taken me on and won before I have realised I’m even in the ring!
Only when I am empty and feel without form or body do I manage to crawl from the hole and ask what happened.
But then I just carry on. Like nothing happened. Like I didn’t just bury myself alive. And even though I’m screaming no-one can hear me and if they did I would be so ashamed. How could I tell them why?
Being upset is better than being empty or devoid of emotion. Being upset about being empty is another thing.
The thing that keeps me going is knowing that I will again feel good, as I will again feel like this. And if feeling like this paves the path for happiness… then, “Higher power? Bring it on.”
*lyric from Marillion – When I Meet God.
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