Over the last couple of weeks, I haven't really been posting much at all on twitter, and I haven't posted on here for nine days. Some people may not have noticed a difference, but as I usually post regularly on both twitter and this, it seems like I have been avoiding the internet, and well, to a certain extent I have been. I know what makes me better and what makes me worse, and certain aspects of the internet do make me worse. I also find it difficult to share things, such as how I am feeling when I am feeling particularly low. This is partly because I don't want to make anyone else feel worse, and partly because I often just cannot find the words to explain how I feel.
I have been struggling a lot over the last few weeks, but I still haven't managed to find the words to explain how I have been feeling. How I'm feeling can only truly be explained in the pages of an elaborately written novel entailing the life of a sufferer of a severe mental illness, but as I'm not an author, nor am I particularly good with words, I will just have to try to explain how I have been feeling through my own words, but I will probably give very little insight to my true feelings as words often fail to aid me in accurate explanations of my emotions.
To put it simply, I have been empty. I know it can be common for people to feel empty when they suffer from a mental illness, but I have never felt empty like this before. This emptiness was just not concerning my emotions, but also my mind. I couldn't think. I felt as though I was simply an empty carcass obediently completing the daily tasks to which I had previously done with vitality.
Each evening I would get into bed and just stare at the ceiling for a couple of hours, not because I wanted to, but because there was nothing else I could do. Communication was useless, all I would have done was make everyone else feel worse. Doing anything to distract me was useless too, I couldn't focus on anything. I'm not actually sure whether I couldn't, or whether I just wouldn't, but distractions served no profitable purpose to me during this time.
After staring at the ceiling for a few hours, with no thoughts passing through my mind and no emotions surfacing to be felt, I would finally fall asleep. Sleep has always been an escape for me, it's some time away from reality where I can just relax, but not over the last few nights. My sleep was incredibly disturbed. I would sleep for two hours, then lie awake for five, only to sleep another two before waking up and having to go about my day and somehow ignoring the fact that I was exhausted. During the five hours that I would lie awake each night, I tried listening to the radio, specifically to the news in the hope that I would be able to find out more about what is going on in the world around me. That didn't happen. What I heard was instantly forgotten, not because I was tired, but because I just haven't been able to think about, focus on or remember anything.
In all honesty, the last couple of weeks have been dreadful, primarily because when you can't think, the chances of you believing in any hope for the future disappear before you can even try to hold on to the memory of it. Thankfully, I'm very slowly beginning to feel better, and I feel as though some sort of explanation was needed, but I'm not sure if the explanation is to me or the rest of the world.
I hope that things will continue to get better for me, but I am realistic in my hopes and I'm aware that there is a significant chance that I will return to that lonely state of mind once again. I will try to do all I can to prevent that, but I know that working against the chemicals in my mind is like trying to slay a dragon by throwing marshmallows at it. There's a small possibility that the dragon is allergic to marshmallows, but it's highly unlikely and will probably end up with the dragon winning.
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