Most days, all I feel is despair. I eat very little. I have very little hope in my heart. I have glimmers of joy, but these are becoming fewer and fewer as time goes on.
It has been less than two months that I have been experiencing It. They don’t yet know what It is. They may not for a while. And it looks like It will go on and on.
No, I am not “doing this to myself.” Trust me, there are concrete physical symptoms that go along with the scrambled thoughts I experience.
As time goes on–it is inevitable–my treatment team will believe me less and less regarding the existence of It, unless It shows up on some neurological test. The Thing didn’t show up on any test that was administered. After a while, they decided that I was “faking it.”
I risked my life trying to get to therapy on public transportation yesterday. It was raging. I nearly walked off the platform on the Red Line at Central Square because I was so confused. That would have meant certain death. Not to mention having had to walk in traffic, cross streets, etc. I actually told this to my therapist. She obviously didn’t believe me.
Like my eating disorder, It follows me everywhere, and, like my eating disorder, It kills.
I do not like having a killer inside my head.
View an online magazine, Quay Journal, that has published excerpts from my book, This Hunger Is Secret: My Journeys Through Mental Illness and Wellness.
http://www.quayjournal.org/ Check the table of contents. There are two separate memoir sections of my work.