My head will converse with itself and I am like a fly on the wall, stuck on fly paper and unable to escape the confines of my skull. I can scrunch my eyes up with the hopes of stopping the drone of the negative thoughts. I can hold my ears but the buzzing is within me. I have no control over my thoughts they control me. Once the incessant beat down starts I lose my strength and begin to believe the hideous conversations wishing I was sprayed with the fast kill Mortein like Louie* and his mates and no longer be privy to my thoughts.
At present, my focus has been intermittent. I sleep, eat, work. I am doing exceptionally well at work. I am getting praise from high places and am getting the recognition I have worked hard on. The thing is it is a long and lonely drive and I am crying all the way to work and all the way home. I am a selective people person. At work, I need to manage the smile on my face, the mask that I wear of the sad smiling clown fits me perfectly. “Let me entertain you while you shop” “let me revel in your day, your trip, your life” “Come on I want to hear your stories”. The smile works, but the sadness is just underneath and the thoughts consume me.
My ethic and drive has garnered me respect, I have been making small but land conquering steps to further my career. This is the time for me to be sharing the gains I have created. Time for people to be impressed with where I am headed. But this dam conversation in my head is telling me I haven’t worked hard enough. I don’t deserve the recognition, that because of all the broken bits of me scattered all over my time line make me an unworthy person, to many cock ups to be allowed to have good moments, to be proud of myself. I need to be able to maintain the façade of sanity, I must pretend to be a “normal” functioning human. I don’t deserve merit for my achievements.
This isn’t fair! This is my mentality! This is my life cycle.
These hidden conversations are pitting me against the ones I love. I am embroiled in an argument right now but the ones I am arguing with, the ones I feel have let me down are only involved in this argument because it’s within the confines of my head. I’m angry, dead set furious that I am feeling neglected and used but it’s my bipolar self that is torturing me.
I have been silently waiting for someone to call me and ask how it’s going. Yet I’m so mad that if I was called I would be pulling the conversation apart and rewriting everything that is said to me to fuel the argument IN SIDE MY HEAD!
On the flipside if it was anybody else on the fly paper, if Louie was lost, hurt, in need of help I would be able to show him his worth. Make him see that I value our friendship, our family that regardless of what’s going on in his life or in his head, he is made up of all these little lessons but he will see there is a bright side, there is a door, he will see a window. Escape the invisible barrier around the perimeter. I will hold Louie’s hand and together we will find a way to avoid the Mortein. But we will do it together.
It’s this messed up processing. Why is it that I can’t take my own advice? Why can’t the rational Veronica step up and take on the darkness inside head. Why is it that I feel I need the fast kill? Could I not use it on the insects within me? There is nothing fair about being bipolar, nothing easy and the thoughts don’t change. It is the same rotation, same drama, the same hurt and the same loneliness. These exchanges inside the most precious part of me are killing me on the inside, killing me on the outside and are pushing me to choose the path I have travelled to many times before.
I am sorry for the arguments I have had and for hurting my loved ones even if it is inside my head. I need to apologise to myself for not allowing Veronica to give herself a pat on the back for being here and for working hard. I need to apologise for the really, ridiculous fly analogies throughout the post.
- Louie the Fly is the mascot for Mortein Fly Spray and all their bug kill products. Louie’s mates always end up dead but he always seems to be one wing ahead. This is my goal to get one step ahead of my disorder.