I am struggling to remember who I am. I had an appointment with my psychiatric community care nurse today and I am now reeling in shock.
I thought I was better. I am not. I thought I had won my battle, it seems it has won me. I am ill. I have to accept this. I can not.
When did it start, at the age of 12. Why did it start? I do not know. I have talked about my childhood with my shrink. What I can remember of it. Was it good or bad? I do not know. I can not remember. I look at pictures of me as a child. I can guess my age but that little girl has my face but no name. I do not remember her.
I look in the mirror and that same face stares back at me, only older. It is not me. Where have I gone. When did I go?
We need new meds they tell me. Yes I reply. New medication to mask over the pain, the fear. Lets put yet another plaster on top of the many that are covering the mental scars of my inner soul.
My body moves like everyone else’s yet my mind remains still. Locked, transfixed on some fear. What is that fear?
That fear is many, too hard to remember, so my mind has shut it down. It sits there festering away, growing stronger yet the meds make it weak so I can function. They tell me I need new medication, I tell them I need a new mind. One without Bipolar, Manic Depression, whatever they want to call it.
I am tired. I am strong and face the battle yet it feels at this time it is winning. A daily battle I must face. It is draining me of my energy, I want it to go. I want to sleep. Just let me sleep.