I didn’t imagine it being like this. I thought it would be all good news and beautiful things to write about, but it’s been much different. My expectations of withdrawing from medication were prettier than it actually was, and I had vaguely considered the possibility of dark anguish at the absence of it.
It was just about gone, the last chemical traces leaving my body, and all of the bits and pieces of my heart formerly tied down in numbness began to increasingly release in my direction. What is there to block me, to stand in the way and to catch all of the weight and hits of this evil darkness storming my way?
It is I. Yes, He never leaves me nor forsakes me, but I need to face this. I need to feel it so that I can be freed from it. It sounds cruel. No one is worthy of having to undergo such pain, but neither does one deserve to be enslaved by such should they choose to run from it. Because that’s what happens; the farther we run, the more we try to escape the shadow, the deeper we fall into it’s darkness.
I’m facing the choice of life and death. I’m surrounded by it’s heaviness, I’ve drawn it so near that I can taste it’s sting for horrifying moments that seem to last much longer. It’s presence erases mine and one by one the things that originally represented me take on another meaning not my own. They represent my absence, the absence of my laugh, my creativity and my funny, loving personality, and the shame I left behind for choosing not to be. It’s a mental suicide.
I’ve been here before and I can make it out again. That’s what I’m reminding myself of when I am in this place void of all beauty and worth.
I have reached the bottom. I have gotten to the point of where I’m facing the raw and rotten thoughts that have molded my mind for far too long; the ones that I couldn’t quite feel with the slightest of medicine standing in the gap. This turmoil, this heartache, and this arrival at the bottom can only mean one thing: that I’m ready to be filled up soon. That’s what I see and that’s what I choose to believe. I’m going to hold on a little bit longer and allow my broken, emptied mind to be overfilled with love, with truth, with the essence of me. I want to be purified of any lie or poisoning thought.
I have the option to go back on medicine, to put a seemingly possible end to this, and the road leading there is wide. But I’m choosing life, you see. I know how hard it is to forge a path down the narrow way, but I still choose to walk it. I choose it because it means true freedom, it means facing and destroying the buried lies for what they are so that I can finally be me.
I’m done with submissively juggling anger here and there in order to receive love. I’m done with the nothingness I become when I voluntarily choose to heap it all upon myself. I don’t want to let the sad or disappointed eyes of another have more value than my own. And I especially don’t want to convince myself of being an obsessive, sensitive thinker when in reality, my thoughts both exist and matter. I’m done with the love that I learned to be love and I choose True Love. I choose to accept that another might feel pain or be exposed should my needs happen to do so. I’ve chosen to speak out of my heart and soul, which I’m discovering all the more with each new day.
These are my moments, these are my days. They might not be what I imagined or want them to be, but they are mine. And those beautiful moments and dreams I wish to live? They’re here and happening now. I’m making them, I’m fighting towards them. One day I’ll freely live this life with my husband and enjoy the pleasures of the world big and small. We’ll travel and see the sights, and when we don’t we’ll lay still in our home as he loves to do, and even there I’ll enjoy it as I often do – uninterrupted by thoughts so dark. One day, one day soon.