Imagine hearing different sides of you speaking to you. Sides that you know and recognise. Sides that, by their very existence negate all other sides, but all still exists. It's like I have ghosts - IN MY HEAD! These, they call "The Voices".
Due to the fact that I suffer from both a mood (bi-polar) as well as a personality (borderline) disorder, it's really hard to tell when I'm alright and when I'm just losing it. Have you ever had to second guess your sanity. On a serious level? Most days, I'm faced with the task of discerning between real emotion and the symptoms of mental illness.
While it's great to play the triumphant hero who is never a victim - the "I have evrything under control" supergirl - somethimes it is literally heart breaking to have to ask myself: "Ntsaki, are you sure? Is this really you?" I don't know who I am some of the time and I have to question that all the time. How do I really know?
Mental illness is unlike any other kind of illness because your body never really lets you know that you are ill. I feel normal for the most part - That is until someone else highlights your brain's discrepencies... That or the fact that you find yourself in that "It'd never happen to me"/ "How did I become like this" situation. It crushes me every single time I have to step away from the current situation in order to debate with myself whether I am "coping" or not. If there were anything that could create a weakness, this would be it.
It's hard not being believed. It's even worse when the person who doesn't believe you is you.
Right now, I don't know what is going on with me. I am hurt and upset. And the fact that I cannot triangulate the origins of these feelings; And that everything not only looks and feels - but even in all efforts towards objectivity - in my head IS dire makes me all the more depressed.
Everytime I feel this way, all I can do is hope and pray that I can get through it. (Which usually serves no purpose as both these words imply some sort of faith or belief which by now is almost completely void.) I can't ever speak to anyone about it since noone understands - or even wants to understand. It's just another spoilt little girl acting the victim. No one gets the fact that my life IS a bad LSD trip sometimes, and that there is nothing I can do about it.
No one ever chooses mental illness. Trust me, if we could be 100% sure of our every thought and decision, we would have tapped out of these claustrophobic conditions ions ago. It has come to the point when I hate my brain. And I hate myself for being defective.
Having an intangible nemesis is much like being a ghost buster with no equipment. It is frustrating, having a barely-exsistent worst enimy. It's debilitating being your own...
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