The thing about my blog is one day an article will be filled with hope and optimism and the next one may make you think “Hey, I thought she was fine a couple days ago?” It seems that way because it is that way. The only way I can describe it is like having whip lash. Constantly being pulled in different directions of mental stability. I admit I am still better off than in my previous years. I attribute that to my volunteer work with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, my psychedelic introspection and my new doctors. Sometimes I forget to mention - none of that means episodes no longer occur.
I’ll talk about the argument over the car keys first. Of all the things to get angry about, of all the things that could rise a fight in a relationship - it was the car keys. It wasn’t even the car keys, it was the fact my fiancé asked me where the car keys were while I was on the phone with someone.
Now, in my brain, he was being disrespectful, stupid and rage inducing because he had the nerve to ask me where the keys were. An anger so severe welled up in me that I looked at the love of my life and wanted nothing but to kick him out of the house. Over car keys. I felt a tiny Rachael, the real me, instantly shrunken and small somewhere deep in my chest. She kept pointing out how ridiculous it was to be so angry over nothing. She pleaded for me not to start screaming - but I started screaming. She pleaded for me not to say hurtful things - but I said hurtful things. I felt like I was floating above my body watching it flail and shout. I felt no other emotion but absolute rage at that point. The small voice that had lost control of my body pleaded for me not to get violent - but I watched myself throw a container of pre-workout at the only person who has been there for me through the worst of my years. My love. But in that moment he wasn’t my love.
Zak ducked out of the apartment to get some air and get away from me, which is smart of him considering there’s nothing words can do to stop me when I can’t control it anymore. It’s like watching a horrible, horrible movie play out through my own eyes. He left, as the door shut behind him I ran my fists into the wall a few times. Once my entire self, including the rage, realized it was quiet and I was alone I collapsed on the kitchen floor - sobbing. At that point it was the only thing I could do. It felt bittersweet.
“You’re not a bad person. You knew it was wrong. You know you did something wrong so you have a moral compass, so you’re not a bad person. You know better.”
Still alone on the kitchen floor. I scared my puppy away, my precious baby.
“Well if you fucking knew it was bad why did you keep doing it? Why did you let it happen? Why, if you know it’s not right and you know you’re supposed to stay calm and you know it's wrong - why couldn’t you stop it?”
That’s why it’s bittersweet. It’s a never ending war between “I know I’m a good person” and “If you were a good person you would be able to control yourself”. I know I have chemical imbalances. I know brains that suffer from mental illness function differently. But that doesn’t make watching your body and your mouth do and say things while you scream from the inside to make it stop any easier.
Zak walked back in while I was still on the floor. He held me and let me cry in his lap until I calmed down. I apologized and he forgave me because he’s the kind of man I don’t deserve.
Just as quickly as the anger had come - it was gone. Not just dissipated but fifteen minutes later I completely forgot about it, like it never happened. I thought “Why is the pup acting weird?” Oh well that’s probably because his mom just had a mental breakdown in front of him not too long ago.
I am not surprised I’ve spent the majority of my life alone. Especially when I think about how many times I must have done things like this to people growing up.
Today I’m feeling alone. I know I have a support system and I know I’m progressing in a positive direction. However, when those chemicals decide to shift around and I feel darkness start knocking - I waiver between exhausting myself and pushing it away or just letting it wash over me so I can ride out the suffering. The latter sounds lazy, but sometimes you get to a point where you know the darkness is inevitable so you prefer to get it over with.
But all of that is for a different blog and a different day. I recently started drawing and designing some streetwear which is helping me express different mental states. I look forward to talking about some more of the less glamorous states of mind I seem to be shifting towards right now because none of my hopeful happy blogs mean a damn thing without the darkness in toe. I'm sure it'll make for some good drawings though.