A cup of coffee, a cigarette and Counting Crows playing on YouTube; I’m ready to write.
Now what the hell do I write about?
Having a mental illness makes me lonely. There may be tons of people around me, but the thoughts and feelings in my head are my own to deal with. Why is it so hard to express what I am going through? Plenty of people ask me “What’s wrong?”, but I’ll be damned if I can explain it to them. It’s like a thousand things going around my head, but as soon as my wife asks me what I’m thinking about, my mind goes blank. Then of course she thinks I just don’t want to talk to her and she gets mad. I know my mom too gets frustrated when she asks me how I am feeling and I say I am depressed and anxious, then can’t explain what I’m depressed and anxious about.
I have to admit that some of the time I remain quiet because I don’t want to hurt feelings. I’d rather deal with the pain on my own than hurt someone I love. I know it’s not healthy, and people do sometimes want to know things even if it hurts them, but I just can’t bring myself to impose my pain on anyone else. I know it’s not good for me to hold all these things in and ruminate on them all the time, but this is the nature of my sickness.
The Dalai Lama just said on my Twitter feed:
“The more we are concerned for the well-being of others, the closer we will feel to each other.”
Am I more concerned about others because I don’t want to hurt them with words, or am I less concerned because I don’t allow them the chance to experience what I am thinking and let them make their own decision to be hurt or not? Maybe that’s why I don’t feel close to anyone on a totally honest level. Yes, I do feel close to my wife, but am I holding back the chance to be my “soul mate” because I won’t tell her everything I am feeling?
These are just some of the philosophical conundrums I struggle with every day in my broken brain. A whole lot more goes screaming around in my head at the same time, so most of the time it’s hard to focus and make any headway in understanding myself, so I fight with these ideas every day.
It’s lonely down here in this hole.