Prior to the hospital, I was convinced that I was supposed to write and help others. I was convinced that if I wrote, everything would be fine. Then, I got convinced my ex was talking to me through music. I got convinced my phone was hacked and being watched. I was convinced everything I have ever been ashamed, embarrassed, etc. was out there for everyone to see. Lastly, I got convinced I was doing everything wrong, and if I didn’t stop this, I would hurt or kill everyone I know. I became convinced I was going to lose my children, and spent days and nights scrubbing my house and running around like a lunatic to ensure that I did everything I could possibly think of. I was supposed to be resting. At this point, I hadn’t slept in weeks. Once I got convinced I needed to die, I surrendered. I need medication, because I can’t live like this. I don’t want it, it changes me. I am not sure if I am better or worse, but I do know that I can’t take the crash anymore. I suppose everyone reaches that point, where the highs do not outweigh the lows. For me, I just can’t take the volume anymore. My personality, etc. shift constantly, and it’s exhausting.
I’ve spent months working on acceptance. Where I am, who I am, what I am is what it is. I am getting away from “fixing” anything about me, and just adding good, like I was. Like before, though, my steps are the same. A step forward, chased by several steps back into “What if I am wrong…” I try to keep re-reading my journal from various points to see growth or change, but I feel stuck. “Why me?” and “This is all my fault” I am always the victim and villain in my own mind. I feel like I repeat the same mistakes with new plot points and twists. I held on to this belief that everything happens for a reason, and that we all spiral up and down/repeat cycles until we learn and are strong enough to move forward. I look at my life and see a repeating pattern – girl loves boy, boy does not love girl, girl drives herself insane trying to make boy love her like she loves him. Honestly, it’s that way with almost everyone I care deeply about. I have a handful of friends that I am balanced with, everyone else, I get obsessed and they run away, it seems.
I am trying to address that. I figure the only way that stops is if I love myself more, give myself all the love I pour out to everyone else, and see if that changes things. My polar brain, though, likes to fight me. As I try this, life and my mind seem to conspire against me. For as certain as I am that unconditional love is the only way to heal, I am equally certain this is psychotic babble and I persist in staying off my rocker. For as certain as I am that I am a strong woman, I am equally certain that I create my own chaos. For as certain as I am that I will find the right love once I give myself the right love, I am equally certain that I am too fucking crazy for anyone to give a shit about me. For everything I can say, I can equally say, “What if I am wrong…”