What to do

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m way too old to be still…thinking about what I want to be when I grow up. And hell, with this mental disorder and how slowly things are progressing, I’m terrified I won’t be able to be an independent woman at all. I’ve never known what I was meant to do, but the problem is that I couldn’t seem to fit in even when I tried to make due. Now that I’m bipolar schizoaffective or whatever they call it.. What can I do? I guess I’m wallowing in self pity, but even when I feel like I can do something, it’s usually mania and I’m on shaky ground. I either feel like a waste of space, or I feel more than myself. Where’s the in between? Where’s the ground I can actually walk on?

I don’t feel like I can really do anything. I don’t feel comfortable around people and I honestly still feel like a 15 year old. I’ve been trained by past relationships to need a master. A hand holder. Someone to lead me while I follow orders. I’m not good by myself, but I don’t have anyone to lead me. I thought I found someone and got engaged, but a series of events led me to either believe he was too strict or I am too independent for the lifestyle I want. He tried to grab me from behind one day and I reflexively threw my head back and headbutted him. He was bleeding. I mean, his loud voice and body language put me on edge, and I was already paranoid, delusional and scared…but he said he was trying to comfort me later. The problem is that I was in fight or flight and I had no control over my.. I didn’t want to hurt him, it happened so fast. He scared me. And now it’s over. I went to the mental hospital later, he showed up there and I lost it screaming at him to leave. We had already broken off the engagement, so him seeing me in that vulnerable position just made it worse. He had wanted me to call him daddy, and it had made me uneasy. I didn’t want him to see me fragile. I feel like he won when he saw me at the hospital. Daddy’s girl got punished for hurting him. I didn’t mean to, I don’t know if he really did intend to harm me.. I didn’t like that he had a knife in his bag. I didn’t like a few things, but mostly I couldn’t stop seeing red flags. The problem is, with my brain issues, I never know if I’m being hyper-vigilant or insightful. Either way, there’s no going back. It doesn’t feel right, no matter how many times I try to think through it. Whether it was me, him, or us both- something wasn’t right.

I probably shouldn’t be with anyone for a while, if ever. I have a craving for someone to hold me. A craving for someone to know me, love me, protect me when I can’t take care of myself. I don’t like knowing when I’m manic I become… something else. I haven’t gotten to where I can control myself and maybe that’s why I want someone I trust to lead me when I’m like that. Maybe if I see someone I know won’t hurt me, wants to protect me and keep me with them, I’ll behave or run to them or something… I don’t know what I want. I’m not codependent, if anything I’m isolated. I have next to no friends, the best one lives many hours away. I’m ok with that, but I’m wholly discontent in myself. I want to get better but another part of me wants to burn. There’s a deep rooted anger and depressed inner me that wants to be torn apart and left for dead. It fights against the me that wants to save the world. Problem is.. how do you save the world when you can’t save yourself?

I feel like I’ve always been looking for who I belong to. I belong to a faceless man who watches me in time and space. I’ll never get married because he keeps me locked away inside myself. He has no name, and he’s part of.. nothing. I’m in love with a ghost that doesn’t exist. I’m not looking for perfection, that wouldn’t fit. I’m looking for me, but stronger. I’m looking for me, but older. I’m looking for me, but taller, smarter, wiser, calmer. I’m not looking for me at all. I’m 28. I’ve been engaged twice, and married none. I have no kids, and now that I’m medicated, I probably never will. It’s for the best. As much as I’ve always wanted a family, I’m too much of a child myself. I don’t feel 28, I feel like I got dropped off from a time machine. My memories are fragmented, I feel like a stranger. I remember high school more than recent years and before it was the flip. My brain plays games, and I don’t even know the rules.. How can I involve anyone else in this? I can’t.

I wish I was beautiful. I know my weight is part of the problem, but even when I got thinner I still felt… awful. No amount of weight loss made me feel pretty. It’s a start though. Something to preoccupy myself. I can’t work, not like this. I’m scared of people, they’re not scared of me, but certainly on edge. I need to somehow reshape myself, mentally. If my brain is malleable, perhaps I can fix the damage that’s been done. Not wholly, but.. mom won’t always be here. How will I make money to even buy my lithium if I can’t do anything… I can do something, I just haven’t found the perfect thing yet. I’m nervous, scared, unable to cope normally. I’m a child with a long wish-list and little motivation. A part of me has given up.. I can’t go back to being a nursing assistant, the death.. I did that for two years, and I went nuts a month after quitting, I felt like things were shifting before that, that’s why I left… It’s like eating too much of something and throwing up, I just can’t see that job as the same anymore.

I want to be good.. I always liked the idea of being a heroin, but I have nothing to show for it except art and ptsd of sorts. Short stories, journal entries, poorly timed inadequacies. I’m sad. Tired or wired, depending on… only god knows. I wish many things. I wanted to be better so I could make a difference for others. I hated myself for so long.. now I have to learn how to love myself to get better to help them, but I’ve already pushed so many away. Time. It always takes time. It took time to break, fall apart. It’ll take time to find the pieces again. I guess I just have to hope I don’t run out of it before I finish. I have to stop listening to my self deprecating thoughts. I have to ignore the history of men calling me a waste of space, to pull the trigger, to die already. I have to ignore myself saying the same things, more than them. When you think something awful and someone says what’s in your mind it feels like confirmation.. I have to remember that if I think something, others can too… that still doesn’t make it true. It’s not a signature on a dotted line. It’s another warped mind. I may have contemplated suicide, but I’ve never wanted or told someone else to kill themselves. I have my own demons, they have theirs. Theirs is hateful too. I can’t take it for truth.