Return to madness

" If you don't know where you're going, any road will get you there." - Cheshire Cat

I feel completely insane as of late.
I feel unstable, unpredictable and volatile. Like a defective time-bomb, I could explode without warning. I'm slightly scared of myself because of this... and at the same time ; I also pity myself.

The only way I can truly explain the isolation that I feel, is to pretend I'm superman.
Sent to Earth as an infant, my entire species wiped out, no home to go back to... Pretending to be human, because I look like one but cannot fully mimic human behavior. I don't really belong here.
That is the only way in which I can describe it. I don't fit in here... I don't fit in anywhere.

I am currently torn between two very polar opposite thoughts.
I want to crawl up under several blankets and sob until my eyes are swollen from the salty tears, and my throat becomes raw from gasping for air. I want to lay in bed forever, I want to deny myself any basic human need. What makes me deserve to live? What makes me deserve to eat? I'm a parasite to humankind. I suck happiness out of everyone, I am a burden. My whole purpose is what? To live out my days, mechanically smiling and interacting until the day I am white-haired, sallow-skinned, hunched over with massive blue veins showing under my pale, sagging skin? I think not.
But sometimes it feels that way.

I also want to wake up, get out of bed and spring myself into a steaming hot shower, singing beautiful songs you'd hear in a fairy tale. I want to clean the house and whistle while I do so, I want to step outside into the warm, gentle sunlight. I want to sing, and dance and paint and write. I want to be productive. I feel happy, peaceful. I want to hug people and spread this joy to everyone. I have purpose! My purpose is to live, simply live and try to spread love and peace to as many people as I can. I am motivated and happy.
But am I ? or am I convincing myself I'm happy? Which thought is truly mine...?

I feel insane!!! Yet I am told constantly that I should get out and get a job hah! how stupid!
Is it wise for me to work with people right now? I either sleep half the day away, or I don't sleep for several. I either eat my entire kitchen, or I don't think I can swallow a single crumb without gagging. One day I'll feel pleasant and happy and clean, the next day I feel greasy, tired and filthy no matter how many showers I take. One minute I love myself and the next ; I forget what love is.
And they have the audacity to tell me I should be WORKING? Yes, add stress and pressure and a fit schedule with tasks and responsibilities to the girl who has a mental breakdown over doing the dishes. Go ahead, I'll write you a letter from the psychiatric ward in a few weeks.
No thank you!

I am told to visit my children. That's not exactly a smart idea either.
I have these... outbursts where I want to scream " LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" to people, and a split second later, I feel like begging for company because I can't stand to be alone. I don't want to scream and shout in front of my children. The whole ordeal would rip me in a million pieces.
I would be fighting back tears just seeing my babies and being forced to see how much they've grown and changed since I've last seen them. I'd hold them in my arms and just... die.
I wouldn't want to let go. Ever. Saying hello isn't easy, but saying goodbye is the hardest. I'd be walking away from my children after my visit, leaving a chunk of my heart with them as I've done so many times before. I am ripping myself, piece by piece every time I see them.
My heart breaks because I see that they are happy, healthy, smiling, full of energy and well cared for. I'm very happy about that. I am EXTREMELY happy about that, but it also saddens me because it always causes my mind to ask " Do they really need me?" And my answer is always " No, they've been doing just fine without me."

Every time I see children or babies in strollers when I'm out and about, it hurts. Every time I see a pregnant woman rubbing her tummy as she shops at the grocery store.. it kills me.
There are beautiful pictures of my babies on the walls in my home. I see their gorgeous smiles beaming through the glass frames, I torture myself by hugging my son's teddy bear every night as I fall asleep, wishing I could kiss his forehead and sing him to sleep.
Every morning when I wake up, I wish for nothing more than to nurse my daughter as I get the children ready for the day. I miss them, but I am not ready to see them. Not ready to see any children for that matter. It would only remind me of what I don't have.

There's so much ugly, horrible shit that I've let get to me. There's so much that I've endured... and quite a few times, I wanted to give up. I didn't want to put up with it.
I feel like screaming to the universe in confusion and anger : " Why? WHY? What did I EVER do to deserve this? Why am I not allowed to have love or happiness?"
I have been told I am an enigma. Something never meant to be. Why? Because I am alive...
I am alive... when so many in my situation have ended their lives. I am not proud of that fact.
It saddens me. It saddens me that so many have given up, and it saddens me because I honestly don't blame them. When does the dark dreary road end?

I don't know if my life is supposed to get any better, I don't know which road to take that will lead me to happiness, but when you're given a flashlight : The darkness isn't so scary, and you can see where you're going.
Therapy is the flashlight I need. DESPERATELY. I am sick.
I am addicted to attention, but I also want to push people away all the time.
I want to be loved, but I don't want to be responsible for caring for anyone else's feelings.
I want friends, but I don't want to hear about anyone else's life. It's all about me. No one else matters to me. I want to hear about other people and other things. Let's NOT talk about me. I need distractions. No. I can't bear responsibility right now. I can't bring myself to be human.
I am in too much fucking pain to be on routine, to get a job, to properly take care of myself.
IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND?! I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate my story.

The only way I can move forward is to tell my story.
It's ugly... and it's long. There are no knights in shining armor. Instead there are foul beasts who rip out your dignity and self-respect. There is no magical rainbow road, there is a dark tunnel, covered in thorns and creeping vines. It is no fairy tale. It is a horror story.
There is no happy ending... only heartache and misery. My story isn't a happy one.
But my story isn't over yet.

In order to get where I'm going, I need to figure out which road I'm on.
I feel that at the end of this road, I will only return to madness.
But that's okay.
We're all mad here.

<3 XO, TORH
-Dev