alltheavenueslookugly

cheeks puffy/eyes are swollen and

i can slide or snort these medications across this coffee table for the maximum in flavor or whatever will make my heart begin to swell quicker causing thick sweats across my forehead and the inability to breathe properly as i walk down the sidewalk – it’s late at night and therefore nobody is around to see the man stumbling in and out of the street trying desperately to grab onto some random tree branch or fence post for support, but it’s no use –

the medications have done their job – it’s been years in the coming and they attack all at once and i fall down into the gutter, groaning and drooling and i’m pretty sure i have pissed my pants. there are leaves – wet, yellow, and red that are stuck to my face and i don’t care. i can smell the gravel and the urine that might be mine but could also be anybody else’s.

i dream now and in this dream there has been a cure. and here i am – for the first time in over twenty years knowing what happy feels like.  i find myself smiling – real smiles – for no reasons except that i just want to smile. and i can’t peel the smile off of my face. it’s a beautiful day and i am surrounded by friends. there is a party. a party for me. they call it a ‘happy happiness party!’ and everybody i love is there. i hug everybody. i don’t miss one person. i speak to everybody. everybody tells me how much happier i look. how for the first time in twenty years i look like i am not just ‘going through the motions.’

i feel happy. i don’t know if this is it. but i am pretty sure it is. i meet all of the people that i have hurt in the past and i am able to offer my apologies, my sincere apologies. not everybody takes them, but i at least know they are out there – incredible and honest. there are so many tears – love and sweet and some i save by wiping them on my sleeves and pressing the sleeves to my cheeks later. that guilt that used to choke me is gone – i try to imagine it and i cannot. i can breathe better.

my parents are there. my family. i can see it in their eyes and they know that i am better – they know that this is not just another one of my ‘ups’ that can just as quickly become a ‘down.’ and they hug me and this is a victory for us all – and no longer will they go to sleep worrying about me – worrying about getting that frightening phone call in the middle of the night saying that i finally finished myself off. 

the doctors are amazed. incredible. even my psychiatrist is crying. we hug, and i know this means so much to him because for the last six years he has been fighting this battle alongside me. he has no clue what the fuck has happened – but it doesn’t matter. ‘we did it, man,’ he whispers in my ear. 

and i cry some more.

everything is beautiful in this large room. i can’t imagine this night ending, but i am also excited to fall asleep and wake up and see how it finally feels to wake up without the thought of suicide seeping in within the first ten to fifteen minutes. 

i am so excited. 

i fall asleep with a smile on my face.

i wish i could describe what being yanked out of a dream like that can do to somebody like me. it’s hard to even tell myself that it is a good dream and not a nightmare. it takes me only about 30 seconds before i realize it was all an awful imagination prank – one that begins my day with a heavy heart and an overwhelming urge to scream. and yes, i would be lying if i said that the idea of suicide didn’t at least make a small cameo appearance – but very tiny – nothing to be alarmed about. mostly when it shows up, it’s just to remind me that it is still real and is still an option. but this dream was all so real. it isn’t at all like having a dream where you end up finally getting to go out with the girl/boy that you have had a crush on all school year and right before you kiss you wake up…

yeah, that is a bummer…

but this is something completely different.

this is real. in this dream everything inside of myself tells me that i am better now. the depression is gone – or at least very very manageable – and i am able to finally begin to imagine living a life that doesn’t involve taking over ten pills a day and seeing a psychiatrist every two weeks. it changes my life, for just a short time. and then i have to wake up and remember that it was all bullshit.

all a brain joke.

i’ve now taken 3 clonazepam to destroy this anxiety in my brain and body right now.

because i cannot stand the idea of such a dream later.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2014/11/30.

Posted in november 14
Tags: anxiety, bipolar disorder, crying, depression, dreams, guilt, happiness, hating self, insomnia, isolation, love, medications, mental illness, nightmares, posts about suicide, psychiatric hospital, sleep