I used to ride through life pretending I didn’t care when the bullies called me names, that every birthday without fail my mum would forget to call, that I was invincible and intolerant to emotion. Yeah well its all a lie, a front I put on to pretend that I am stronger than I am. I don’t want people to know how I am behind closed doors, how at night when the lights go out I lay awake thinking about the future and it scares me. How long will I be a prisoner in my own mind, scared to rock the boat because of its mental limitations? But noone sees this image, to them I am this invincible girl who breathes happiness and joy, except last night things changed. After work I went out with my friends and was the life of the party, squealing with schoolgirl excitement. It had been a while since I let loose and so the drinks began flowing. Except here is the thing, I am not really meant to drink that much because it makes me very sick and not in the hangover kind of way either. But still I kept drinking and when I drink things rise to the surface and I become very emotional. I started crying, unexpectedly out of the blue and I didn’t know why at first. I am so used to keeping my emotions in check that showing the world my true state of mind was never intended to be a public display except it was. You know that I had people who I was close to die and whilst it might have been three months ago now I never acknowledged my grief. I swept it under the carpet and carried on with life because people tell you that ‘life is too short’ and to move on. I thought I did and I was happy but maybe the grief never goes away, maybe the pain lessens over time but there will always be an empty space in my heart where their souls used to be.
So I drank and I drank, reveled in male attention and laughed my little heart out. It was my way of saying look I am fun and exciting, never judge a book by its cover. It turned into a spectacle soon after and I have no idea what the trigger was but I felt really sad and I felt alone. At some point I left the bar/club and sobbing my little heart out I was an absolute mess. I sat at the bus stop crying and crying, anguished tears blurring my make up into smudgy black lines and two strangers set beside me and held my hand. All it took was that one simple touch to get my story out, how lonely I feel in London, how sad and broken I feel losing loved ones and how I always felt like second best throughout my childhood and teenage life. I was rambling but suddenly it was like I couldn’t stop, they held my hand the whole way through. I told them how ugly I felt in that moment, how people made me feel like I would never be a somebody and how every time I tried to find someone to love that person would do something so bad that all my trust would be gone. Honestly I was so embarrassed confiding in strangers and I kept apologizing for ruining their night to which they replied that I hadn’t. Eventually I found myself at the station and had a panic attack. I don’t know if it was brought on by the stress or grief but I couldn’t move and had to lie on the floor and curl into a ball because A. I was in pain and B. it felt like my heart was broken, I was a mess.
Two train guards came and got me up and I felt humiliated, I didn’t want them to think that I was drunk because I wasn’t, I was just sad. They understood and helped me get up, it was 4’oclock in the morning by this point and even the short 13 minute walk to my house from the station seemed impossible. Somehow I managed to get 5 minutes away from my house before I collapsed on the floor again and this time a young guy approached me and asked if I wanted to be walked home. Normally my stranger alert radar would be on speed dial but I was so upset that I agreed, luckily I made the right choice. I couldn’t walk and had cut my ankles in the fall so he supported me along the way, all the while me apologizing profusely for taking up this guys time. Even writing this now I am crying and I think it is because I am ashamed. Ashamed that I let people see me like this, I didn’t want people to think that I am a freak but I sure as hell felt like I was. He was so nice and walked me to my door, even helping me get into my house because I couldn’t see through my mirage of tears. I never caught his name or the two strangers but I want to thank them for taking the time to listen and making sure that I would be ok. Because lets face it I have family members and even so called friends that couldn’t give two hoots if they tried. The fact that complete strangers understood what I was going through and even better were there for me restored my faith in humanity a little more.
This morning after three hours sleep the room was spinning and for a moment I had gone blind. I couldn’t see and felt sick to my stomach. I was in pain and when I tried to get out of bed I hit my head and blacked out. I have no idea how long I was out for but I didn’t feel any better when I came to. I felt so sick but couldn’t throw up. I was nauseous and my chest felt tight, my legs were shaking and my vision was blurred. I was sick to my stomach and for hours I couldn’t even leave the toilet I was so dizzy. Friends called and I had to lay there on the floor with my friend on speaker phone because I couldn’t open my eyes. Time seemed to go really slow and I had no concept of what I was doing or what I was saying. Eventually by mid-afternoon I finally threw up and as disgusting as it sounds it made me feel a little better. I was still dizzy and in pain but my stomach had finally settled and I breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes when I get into this state I get so bad that I have to go to hospital, last time I was there I was kept in for 7 hours because I was so sick. I had a flashback to that moment, leaving the hospital early morning, being shouted at by a random stranger. I sat at the bus stop again still feeling ill and he invaded my personal space, called me names. Told me that my parents didn’t care, he is right to an extent. I digress, I have a fear of hospitals so I was thankful that the pain began to lessen by the evening. But that didn’t change the way I feel or at least the way I felt last night. I used to think that writing was the only counselling I would ever need but I think maybe just this once I am wrong and I do need help.
Have You Struggled To Shake Off Your Inner Demons?