Fragile, like a bomb
It's me again. The me who is fragile, not fragile like a flower but like a bomb, set to go off. The suspense is mounting, the fuse is lit and it's going to go off. I countdown the seconds like fireworks because once I reach this point there is no stopping me.
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
Explosion.
Now there is no real bomb going off, nobody is in danger of being hurt. The only explosion is the one that I feel in my body. The moment the dark creeps in. The moment when all the progress I have made, is in jeopardy.
If I am really honest, this wasn't a small moment. As I read the labels on my medication my last fill was in December. It is now the end of February. Did you know you have mental illness and you don't fill your prescriptions some insurance companies will call your dr and let them know you didn't fill your meds? I know now.
There was a moment when I sat in an appointment and my doctor opened with " Your insurance company let me know you have not been filling your prescriptions in a timely manner. We need to discuss why." There was no bullshiting my way out of this one. I was caught. Caught.
Once the explosion hits, it's a very out of body feeling. I turn into a robot. One who sleeps a lot. One who forgets a lot, because even though I am sleeping a lot it is never restful. I have bad coping mechanisms, I either eat or don't eat. I either engage in OCD behavior or I don't care about anything.
Then there's the aftermath of when the bomb goes off. The weight gain, the picking up the pieces of what was broken, the strain on relationships. The reviewing of what lead to this.
Then there is the realization that this mental illness diagnosis is life long. So is the recovery from it. There is no hiding from it, it isn't a monster under my bed. It is a monster lurking in the shadows of my head. There is no hiding from this.
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
Explosion.
Now there is no real bomb going off, nobody is in danger of being hurt. The only explosion is the one that I feel in my body. The moment the dark creeps in. The moment when all the progress I have made, is in jeopardy.
If I am really honest, this wasn't a small moment. As I read the labels on my medication my last fill was in December. It is now the end of February. Did you know you have mental illness and you don't fill your prescriptions some insurance companies will call your dr and let them know you didn't fill your meds? I know now.
There was a moment when I sat in an appointment and my doctor opened with " Your insurance company let me know you have not been filling your prescriptions in a timely manner. We need to discuss why." There was no bullshiting my way out of this one. I was caught. Caught.
Once the explosion hits, it's a very out of body feeling. I turn into a robot. One who sleeps a lot. One who forgets a lot, because even though I am sleeping a lot it is never restful. I have bad coping mechanisms, I either eat or don't eat. I either engage in OCD behavior or I don't care about anything.
Then there's the aftermath of when the bomb goes off. The weight gain, the picking up the pieces of what was broken, the strain on relationships. The reviewing of what lead to this.
Then there is the realization that this mental illness diagnosis is life long. So is the recovery from it. There is no hiding from it, it isn't a monster under my bed. It is a monster lurking in the shadows of my head. There is no hiding from this.
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