It’s hard to think that this time last year I was talking to voices that weren’t there, hallucinating, paranoid, reclusive and delusional. It feels like it happened to someone else – but I remember it as though it were me. I remember the paranoia of thinking I was being poisoned: when I threw out all my toiletries and food, the way I used to hide in my own flat from hidden cameras, wiping my phones memory every few hours…
I remember the surge of energy and the panic attack that followed when I believed I had god-like powers, when I hallucinated a day and believed for a good long while that I had almost killed someone I held dear at the time.
And yet somehow, that was all easier.
Being crazy is easy, so, so easy.
This recovery, this is hard. I’m going to be discharged soon from mental health services – I still hear things and see things and my thought processes aren’t perfect, but I’m functioning better than a lot of ‘sane’ people ever hope to. I’m not taking meds, and the scars on my face from scratching myself silly during my dysphoric mania are starting to heal. I’m starting to look like my old self, act like my old self…
Except I’m lonely, I’m exhausted, I feel like I need a break from doing this, being sane.
I want to go out and meet people, but I’m scared, so scared of being tired. With tiredness comes the voices, and I can’t concentrate when they’re around.
I feel like I’m stuck.
Everyone around is seeing 2013 as a way of moving forward, for me that was last year. Healing.
Now I suppose I’m on the other side, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself.
I can’t go on like this, I feel so thoroughly unsatisfied with everything.