“Do you believe that I will do the right thing? I don’t have to ask you though, but I need your guidance. Decisions are hard for me most of the time. Everyone says that is fine, and time is being wasted waiting for guidance. I don’t know why my friend, but you seem to be the compass of my life. I’m codependent. You are my addiction.
You are far from me. My days are not fulfilled without you. Patience is all I have and our good memories. Is just that I miss you. I want to hear your voice. I want to see you smile. Hug you until it hurts. I want to talk to you. Sometimes it seems like you disappeared.
“I remember the blood on the walls. The painting on the wall, it was her, the maiden with the black dress. It was her gaze, her black eyes that looked at me. The red was everywhere. I can’t forget it. I was laying on the floor, anxious and paranoid. And then, I saw hell on the tv screen.
I rise myselfand go to the bathroom. I looked at the mirror and my face wasn’t there. It was the head of an animal, with two long horns. My hearth stopped. I couldn’t look at the mirror. I didn’t wanted to see my inner demon.
My thoughts were rising. Everything was a spiral in my mind. Then I saw a letter that said that sometimes I hallucinate. That my mind was gaining control of me. The tears dropped on the letter. I felt guilty without apparent reason. All I knew was that the letter didn’t lie. Someone special sent it to me on my last day of transformation.
With such innocence, anyone can tell you the truth. That these were my last days of mental freedom. I became colder with my loved ones in one way or another. Since that day, people who knew me didn’t looked at me at the eyes the same way. Yet, I can see my weakness in their eyes. As if I lost a game and the consolation price was isolation.”
This past Friday, October 12, was my anniversary. When darkness happened. When the first set of symptoms triggered. When darkness arrived. I was 16 years old. I still wonder why.
The only worry I had is to get good grades. Making friends wasn’t necessarily a priority. I was a lonely guy. I didn’t mind. I preferred silence. My classmates used to call me “the silent one.” I used to wake up, go to school, ask questions during class, and go home. I had a few friends in my neighborhood. That’s all I needed.
“You’re an outlier,” she told me. “You’ve achieved so much compared to others,” she added. I couldn’t hold it. My eyes started tearing. My voice was cracking. I couldn’t reply to her. I’ve heard that before. Continue reading “Outlier”→
The day and night cycle. For some, days with anxiety feel longer, and for others nights can be unbearable. On the other hand, there’s good days where you wish wouldn’t end. Nights that were too short. Memories that are here to stay, for better or worse. And then, there’s this bittersweet feeling that anxiety will show up again, uninvited, like the day and night cycle.
Recently, while having a moment of anxiety, I discovered that I was doing a version of Morita therapy as a way of dealing with my symptoms. This type of therapy comes from Japanese psychology. Today, I am sharing with you what I am learning about it, and how it is helping me.
There are times where I cannot distinguish a dream from reality. I am not a frequent dreamer, but then I do dream, it is hard to distinguish if I am awake or not. I can talk, move, or react to my dreams and then waking myself up in a sea of confusion. I wake up anxious, and scared if the dream was actually a nightmare. On rare occasions, I scream while asleep, and the sound of my voice wakes me up, adding more intensity to the inexplicable fear.
It has been more than a decade since it happened. It was a late October night. I could not fall a sleep, and the red screen of my alarm clock was staring at me. As if the clock was getting ready to do something the moment I closed my eyes.
Then, within the darkness of the four walls that surrounded me and without any announcement, hell imploded from my insides towards the outside realm.
That lonely night stopped being lonely. Now, I had company.