A Letter To All My Doctors
Updated: Jan 25, 2021
I have no future, I sit here across from you every week and nothing changes.
We go over the same things every single week.
Then I have my sessions with my psychiatrist and again nothing changes.
We have some days when things are good, when we can actually talk about some sort of future but just when I think you found a combination that works, the voices start.
Well actually before the voices start, it’s fun.
It’s the only fun I have.
It’s the only time I feel like life is worth living.
I have these few days when I feel like I'm superwomen, I can do anything.
I'm full of creative energy, I cook and write, I see life with this lens of hot pink sunglasses that make everything perfect.
And then right as I start feeling like nothing can happen and ruin this sensation, my modo shifts.
I start to get mad, irritable, I feel like I can’t breath. Before I know it I can hear them, I can hear them talking to me, I can hear them telling me that it’s time. They always come back.
Sometimes they say they will kill all the ducks or the elephants or that they will hurt someone. I get paranoid, I’m constantly scared, in this frenzy.
It sucks. It’s not like I love it or anything.
Then you drug me up enough so I sleep all day.
So that I’m not really here. I’m just this shell of a body. No interaction. No sense of humor. No emotion.
The sad part is when I reach this state, that’s when everyone else is happy. That’s when everyone relaxes, I’m no longer in danger.
Unless you know you put me down too much that I turn off almost all together and now you’re worried about the loom and rain taking over.
Which it does.
I lay in bed. I’m not sleeping. I’m not awake. I’m just there.
I feel as if I'm the only person on this planet. I’m not dead, I’m not thinking about dying. I’m wondering if this is it. If this is my life. Then before I know it that thought is married by tears and an overwhelm of emotion.
There are days when I don’t know how to explain how I feel. I hate having to talk to people and having to form words to describe the internal feeling.
I literally want to punch a wall, I’m so angry. My hands are in fist. My shoulders are hunched up to my neck. I have this overwhelming sense of emotion. I’m angry, yet there are tears rolling down my face. I want to break something, I need to release this. I need to run. I need to get out of here. I can’t stay still. It’s too much. I can ride my bike. Before I know it I’m on my spinning bike in my room, pedaling away. It’s like the more I pedal the calmer I feel. The more I can relax.
I can breathe. I can now feel like everything is relaxing in me.
I’m running. I’m literally running away.
I lived in this state for over seven years and it wasn't until I started to question everything that I was told that I left this prison and found answers in the most unlikely places.
This is why I do what I do, this is why I work with clients, reconnecting them with their whole authentic self.