Posted by Shame on April 11, 2005, at 13:58:58
Crashing. It's an emotional vertigo that effects me physically, and all I can do is brace myself mentally and try to keep a balanced outlook on life. It never does any good. Inevitably I end up staring at my meds bottle with a mixture of anger and longing. If only it were like taking an aspirin.
I have been having panic attacks in my sleep. I'm an adult reduced to the state of a child, screaming myself awake, shivering and crying. My gorge rises in my throat while I search for something familiar about my now alien bedroom. Not satisfied with taking my days, my disease has resorted to guerilla warfare, taking my dreamless sleep away from me as well.
I'm not even sure why I post these things here. I occasionally breeze through other peoples postings, and I recognize the general styles of my fellow posters, but I find I cannot truly absorb any of it. I'm saturated with my own life, the emotional distress of others would only compound my own, so it is rejected out of hand. I assume others do the same to my postings. The mad rantings of a crazy man in Wisconsin hardly rate a second glance from any but the boredest of web surfers.
And so I am isolated. I have a wife that struggles to understand, but never will. A mother that refuses to see the truth and realize that her, my brother, and I are all sick. Friends blissfully unaware of what ravages me every moment of every day. I’m not jovial. I’m not engaging. All I can seem to be is taciturn, everything else diminishes me, stealing precious energy from the mental dam hiding what I am from the world.
I know there are others like me, walking the same halls that I do. Statistically speaking there has to be. What I cannot explain is that I do not know who they are. Surely something would tip me off; the rattle of a pill bottle, the slump of the shoulders, the dazed look. But I see nothing. If I did would I care? I doubt it. I long so much to reach out to someone else, but the well need not be burdened by my diseased mind, and the sick no doubt feel as I do.
And so the clock ticks seconds off my life, all of them muddied by grief and wasted by something I have no control over. Myself.
poster:Shame
thread:482864
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20050321/msgs/482864.html