There is a burning inside of me, anxiety, all of the time. I try to make my way through the days, try to put one foot in front of the other, and I think that I look okay on the outside. No one sees the war inside of me, and maybe that’s the way we like it. I am crying, fighting, scratching, failing to breathe … but you won’t see that. You won’t see any of it.
And thus the journey of mental illness and anguish carries on. The invisible war.
I don’t know how much longer I can take it. No. Actually, the depressing thing is that I know that I can take it … I just wish I didn’t have to. I have a good life now. I HAVE A GOOD LIFE NOW! I scream out in my head. So why am I not better? Why am I not fixed? Why am I so god damned hell bent on destroying myself. I can’t be happy. I can’t be happy. I can’t let things go. I can’t let myself off the hook. I can’t stop being scared. Being scared all of the time. I panic. Everything guts me. Even the things that aren’t real. They become real to me.
In my head, in my stomach, in my heart, I am fighting this war. The invisible war.
I lie in bed at night and beg for the tv sounds to lull me to sleep. No silence, please, I cannot take the silence. The quiet is deafening. My head is too loud. My thoughts are too loud. My guilt is too loud. My fear is too loud. I can’t sleep. I wake every hour from the nightmares. For years. Years and years without one night of peaceful sleep. I drag through the days, trying to smile and laugh. And I am happy, don’t get me wrong. My husband makes me happy. But the insides of me never rest, you see, and they never let me forget where I came from.
I am tired. So tired. And I am at a loss, as to how to end this invisible war.