Mary's Voice
Comment 1

“Unstable Mind” : A Maze


I woke up this morning so nauseous. So anxious. It’s like broken shattered shards of glass internally immobilizing me. Waking up from nightmares and fears of abandonment with tears wanting to pour out except they won’t. Instead they bleed inward… as I feel like I’m drowning in my own emotions of not feeling good enough. Always feeling second. It feels like dying to me. But I know to most stable people it does not. I want to scream and shout. I want to fall into someone’s arms, anyone’s arms and be held until it feels okay again. But will it feel okay? Will it ever feel okay? Will I always be second guessing myself because of the past? I feel as though even without the past I was born this way. With attachment issues. I still have Selective Mutism. It comes and goes where I am just afraid to speak at all. And I can’t. That is when I feel myself writing. Writing until I feel okay again, just for a little while. I was in speech in Kindergarten for this same thing. I would nod and point. And I would get scolded for not speaking. So they put me in Speech. I had a very abusive father. But I don’t remember such abuse that young. I do remember screaming and shouting and such anger in the air. But I also remember love and spending time with him. I was his little helper in his shop. I fall into episodes of past present and future and I get stuck. Trapped as if in a maze to find my way out except I can’t. I am so lost. Sometimes it is only for minutes. Sometimes hours, but sometimes it lasts for days on in that feel like a lifetime of searching. Searching just to get out of my own mind. Do other people feel this way? Is it just me? Am I all alone? Will I ever feel like someone just anyone understands what it’s like to be trapped inside my own mind. My own heart. It is a maze, and I can not find my way out. But it doesn’t stop me from trying. If I could think my way into sanity and stability, I would. But I know that I can’t and that I will have to self soothe. Why can’t someone else just do it for me? Why does it have to be so hard?! images

This entry was posted in: Mary's Voice


I am a writer. I am an artist. I love people. And understanding human behavior has become a hobby. It becomes imperative when you're trying to understand your own. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. To me, it means many things. On some days it means the most extraordinary imagination one could have. On other days it means it is the absolute end of the world when that vision gets distorted and dismissed. Sometimes I feel like it is the best part of me and sometimes I feel like I wish I had never been born. Some days it is pure black and some days pure light. I have a daily battle to find my Grey; my middle ground. It is not just a diagnosis. It's a state of mind. But this is not all that I am. I am still discovering myself one wonder at a time.

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