Good Morning, (afternoon and evening)
Yesterday I talked about meeting a woman at a pub who was very broken; too broken for me to honestly befriend. The truth is I was afraid. I wasn't afraid of her, or of the fact, she was someone shunned by her community. I was afraid of her illness. I think that when people continually hold back what they feel in an effort to please others, or not come across as weak, as the years pass those emotions that at first are few and more easily handled start to become a mass. A small group of memories of disappointment, hurt, anger, disillusion, and others, which are mostly pointed at ourselves for not being good enough not to go through those changes, become lynch mobs to our souls. They grow and become organized in chaos, they know and use every one of our vulnerabilities against us. Who knows us better than we do, so who knows us more than they do. And, I say "they" because that is what my illness is to me. "They" are no longer emotions but entities that paralyzed me. It's been like Frankenstein's monsters in my head, but with a little twist of James McAvoy in the movie Glass or Split. (He's amazing at playing split personalities, by the way.) My depression is a mass of darkness created by the attraction and grouping of suppressed negative emotions, and all the memories I've held on to through the years that make my stomach tighten and sicken. Do you know that a therapist told me once years ago? She said that people are often addicted to those feelings, and that's why some people keep choosing abusive partners because that's all they know, and they are more afraid of what they don't know (all subconscious mind you). I was flabbergasted, but it makes sense, if I could be to the sensations that alcohol or drugs give me, then why can't I be addicted to that sickening feeling in my gut? The bigger question is how do I kick the habit? With Love Always...AU