The Dank Fog of Despair
I don’t know what this is. I’m diagnosed with Cyclothymia, which is kind of like having “baby bipolar,” or so my p-doc put it. I just don’t know why I feel the way I feel sometimes. I don’t know if it’s the AS or the cyclothymia or some sort of effed up sensory thing that I haven’t had dxed yet . . . or hell, does it even matter?
All I know is that one moment I’m fine and the next it feels like I’m standing in the middle of a dark, dank fog with no beginning and certainly no ending; just waiting there until Death decides to take me . . .
And then I’m just calm and it’s okay.
The fog always lifts eventually. I just think of it as though my brain is hiccuping or rebooting, and I just have to hold my breath and wait ’til it stops. In these moments, my perseveration comes in handy. I just have to focus on getting through it and then it’s over.
Until the next time.
It feels like there’s someone under my skin and in my brain just screaming with barb filled tears coursing out everywhere. And it’s that feeling that makes me want to grip my head and throw myself against the wall; just to make it frickin’ stop. It’s an unbearable sensation that goes much past the idea of a feeling or “mood.” It’s not just how I feel personally, but physically also; as though there are a thousand ants crawling all over my skin and I know it’s not real, but there’s no way to make it stop except through sleep, sometimes alcohol, or just doing the full body slam . . . or other various forms of self-injury. I haven’t partaken in any form of conscious self-injury in more than 2 years. This means that I just get to rock back and forth, gripping my head, trying to will myself not to scream back mindless epithets towards the ethereal voice in my body; that is only in existence during these episodes.
The thing is, these “moods” (they’re so much more than moods), are completely unpredictable; striking at random moments, regardless of company, time or previous moods.
I’m doing a lot to make myself seem dependable and sane, aren’t I.
There was a time where I felt like this nearly constantly; more than several times a days. Nowadays, it only happens maybe once a week or less; sometimes it only happens once a month.
FDR said the famous phrase, “There is nothing to fear but fear itself.” Yeah, well, my fear is more like Fear.
It tells me each time all of the reasons that I am worthless and it sucks the joy out of every part of me; just like a Dementor from the Harry Potter series.
I’m on anti-depressants; that’s why it’s only once a week or once a month nowadays.
It’s not only fear, you see, but also just a horrible sense of sadness, of hopelessness, that says repeatedly why life is worthless to all who dare try to live it to their benefit.
But I have my own reasons for life.