Mind over matter

It is true what everyone says, mental illness consumes you.
You can’t glamorize it no matter how hard you try.
You try to exploit your own mental illness to work in your favourite, maybe to pave your path, but it doesn’t work like that, really.
The more you think about it, the more it makes you want to cry. But you can’t really not think about it, because then you just end up not thinking about it at all. You wonder if everyone feels like this. I wonder if everyone feels like this. I become consumed in other people. I wonder what they’re thinking. I wonder if they’re just as numb as I am, blocking out as much as they can. Trotting along, trying to hide who they are.

I have a friend who is more vocal about how she’s feeling and her thoughts. She talks about how she has had and continues to live with depression. She complains, things aren’t perfect. A part of me gets annoyed that she’s able to talk about it, whereas I can’t seem to bring myself to say a word about it. She complains how her family doesn’t understand why she feels a certain way and why she is a certain way. I understand. But a part of me is frustrated because when she talks about it, it’s triggering for me. I understand well. I just listen. I’m not mentally stable enough to be listening and offering words of peace regarding other people’s mental health issues and problems in life that is related to it. But I do it anyway, because no one really knows. A part of me screams inside for everyone to know, but I don’t want it to be glamorized. I don’t want people around me to pity me, to think that it’s not real, to glamorize. I don’t want them to have any opinion about it.

This life I live as a prisoner of my own mind keeps me hidden.
I don’t want to do things anymore. Simple joys are gone. I seem to be having more dips now, with more uncertainty in life.
I have graduated and unemployed, well, part-time employee but nothing relevant to my degree. Uncertainty in continuing my education. Uncertain in how my life is going to manifest. How long am I going to stay here, how is my next decision going to affect my life.
I can’t seem to think, I’m just forever chasing after something I don’t even know. Blindly running in a dark tunnel, unsure when I’ll see the light. Unable to foresee, unable to take control.

My mind tells me that I’m useless. There is no reason for me to be here. I’m alone anyway. No one knows about me. Everyone will get over it when I’m gone. No big impact. No ripple affect. Silently slipping into the ocean, effortlessly.
I really don’t want to meet with people. I don’t want to have to go through another meal with people, the conversations. I don’t know how to keep it going. I don’t want to do anything that will be beneficial to me in the slightest way. I want to slowly decay.
Every day is a day I separate myself from small joys of life. Nothing really matters anymore. I do things because I want to upkeep appearance. I want people to think that I’m okay. I want to seem normal. Be like everyone else. I don’t want them to think that there’s anything wrong with me. I want to bring joy to people, the joy that I don’t have. I’m spreading myself thin with the energy, joy, and stability I have. I offer my words to people that I can’t even offer myself.

I eat well, healthy, or so I believe. I go for a jog. I workout in my own secret. I need to maintain my physique. I still want to seem like I have it together. I say that it doesn’t really matter that I haven’t been able to find something yet. I say that I’m trying to figure things out, but I’m not really. I eat because I don’t want to slow down my metabolism. I don’t want to lose my hair. I don’t want to seem dull. I don’t want to seem weak, frail. But I push myself to exercise so that I don’t put on a pound. A pound that seems so small, but so detrimental in my mind. A small bulge of the stomach enough to feel like the world is a crashing wave on my soul.
Need to be thinner, leaner, toner.
But make it seem effortless.
And to do that, you got to eat.
Seem happy.
Fake it till you make it, right?
Have I made it yet.

I’m afraid that if I start on a journey of mental health well being, I’ll lose myself. Who am I without problems?
Who am I if I’m not restricting myself?
I punish myself, I ruminate about all the food I’ve eaten outside of the comfort of my home. How many calories is it? Can I afford to eat tomorrow?
Anything over a 100 pounds is too much.
Anything close to 100 pounds is punishable.
I say 95 is a good average weight.
In my mind, it’s the healthy weight. Thin.
But in reality, I know that it’s underweight.
I’m 165cm. 5’4? 5’5?
But I’m still not thin enough.
My thighs not toned enough.
My butt not round enough.
But how do I get that without extra food? How do I get that when there is no fat to sculpt and when there’s no energy to use? How do I sculpt when my body is burning the fat to maintain my internal organs and systems?
Skin dry, nails brittle, hair thin.
In denial.
Because it’s mind over matter, right? If I believe that I’m healthy, I’m healthy. Whatever the mind can convince me of.

Sometime I feel like people can tell that I have problems. But I’m sure they don’t. I just want people to know without me telling them. Read my mind. Read into my soul. See my problems. Tell me that I’m going to be okay.

But you know, I’m still getting my period regularly, so that’s a good sign, right? They say that when it’s regular you’re fertile. It says that it means that your body is functioning right, that your body has enough fat to sustain itself.

Wait, what was that? Enough fat? So I can afford to lose more fat?
Taking any opportunity to seek room for improvement, but not really. It just pushes me further down hill that my mind just interprets as “improvements.”

Oh, and a new thing started happening about a month or so ago. I’ve been getting skin hives? I think it may correlate to stress, but not always. Sometimes when I feel stressed, or when my mind or body is perceived to be stressed, I get itchy patches of bumps. I think they’re hives. Or something whey I dive my fingernails into my stomach fat, my skin reacts and I get welshes? Not bumps, but a more spread out raised bumps. A form of hives, regardless. I’m not sure what the cause or the trigger is, since it hasn’t always been this way.

I can’t even bring myself to focus. I need to do more job searching, spread my resume out there, anywhere. Try to get something going for me. But it all seems pointless to me. I feel like I’m just putting myself out there for rejection. I feel like I already know what’s going to happen, but I do it anyway. Why the heck not. You’re already anticipating the worst, so anything apart from that would be some good news into my life. Adding value, in a sense. I know I’ve come a long way to be here, and I have so much to be grateful for. I know I’m lucky. I should be thankful, everyday, for being able.

I’ve also lost all desire to do a little shopping therapy.
I don’t want to buy anything. I have things that I do need to buy, but the thought of spending money seems useless. I’ll just do without. There is no point when you don’t see yourself going out to meet people. I’m sure I’ll use these things when I buy them, but it doesn’t really matter. I just won’t use it, and I just won’t leave home. Problem solved.
Food seems like a waste of money.
I just spent $73 on food for myself and my friend. I just keep thinking about how it’s such a waste and why I offered that I would pay when I haven’t done that with my family?
I should probably just pay next time when I’m out with family. Pay for my brother, pay for my mom. They probably just pay because they have more than me. I guess my friend and I are kind of on the same boat. But I guess I know she’s more broke than I am. Doesn’t matter, it’s all done things now. Not like I’m going to ask her for the money. Maybe I just shouldn’t meet people, tell them I don’t feel like spending money or that I don’t have any to spend.
But after one more outing with a different friend.
I do want to buy her a drink. We deserve a drink. She’s a wonderful friend. I want us to enjoy a drink, but after that, I’m just going to stay at home. Just work and do things at home. Walk. Pay for my family. Pitch in for groceries. Pitch in for bills, though I do pay for the phone bill for my mom and I. Go see my brother. Use up 2 classes I have remaining on my yoga pass.

But what I really want is to see how much slimmer I can get.
How many more bones can I show.

Step into dangerous territories.

My mind is a no man’s land.
No one is safe.

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