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[Sep. 28th, 2009|03:13 pm] |
so i'd been waiting for my latest screaming hysterical fit/nervous breakdown... and waiting. and waiting. i became worried. i hadn't even cried in quite a while. i became VERY worried. that meant that the explosion would be all that much worse. (call me katie kaboom. {except don't call me katie. kat kaboom will have to do.})
these happen to me - it's a natural thing. i can't avoid them; every couple of months - kapow. they leave me ragged and torn afterward, lying prone in my bed or sitting stock-still in my chair for hours without moving, talking, blinking; breathing shallowly, staring at nothing, the tumbleweeds rolling around between my ears. i can't help it. my emotions are, and always have been, broken and uncontrollable. i cry when i should laugh; i am stone silent and still when i should jump for joy. i don't even know how to act when in a situation during which it would be deemed rational and acceptable to sob my heart out.
anyway... this time, it was really bad.
===in exposition: i have been slowly reverting to my old self, the self before kat, before i turned fifteen or sixteen. that was a bad self. she was not this me that i am now at all. i don't know who she was... but she is still inside me, and she comes out sometimes for brief periods. this terrifies the shit out of me. i do not want to become her again.
examples:
1. i've begun to cut myself again.
...i have a theory on cutters. our emotions just. don't. work. (unless that's just me.) and so, to feel something, anything, i mutilate myself. i started piercing my ears and face because of some new sterile large-gauge needles i got with my insulin pump... and the pain felt so good. i felt. adrenaline and pain and thrill and ...
so i started doing it more.
then i found a pack of razor blades in the bathroom. sliced my left arm up and down, licking the blood off as it oozed out. thrill. sensation. feeling. after so many months of stagnation, of loneliness, of anguish, and feeling nothing else but emotional pain, i wanted that real pain to blot all that out. give me real pain over mental pain. i can deal with that. (except for my neuralgia. hmph. that pain is just a nuisance.)
1a. when i was young, and in a bad/tense/stressful situation and didn't know how to react or what to do, i chewed on my hands and clawed at my own arms, digging the nails in deep and scraping back the skin to leave red welts.
i have a few new scars from that now.
when my cat ran away for that one day and i felt it was my fault, that everything i touched was poisoned and sabotaged, i chewed a large, painful, bloody wound in my left hand as i sat on the bank of the marsh behind my house, urging myself to jump in and inhale.
i claw my face, my arms, my shoulders hen i get upset, hoping that i will break the skin and draw blood, but of course i'm too much of a coward to dig deep enough.
2. the screaming fits.
they come more often than they have since i regained my mind at sixteen. i thought i was better. obviously, i am only so much worse for the ten years that have gone by, filled with so much nothing, and yet so much that has shattered me again and again. nothing has happened, and yet so much has changed, and yet everything is the same, and yet it is so much worse.
3. alice in wonderland syndrome.
i've looked this up, and thankfully (or not? those poor other people.) i am not the only one to have this condition... most nights, when i turn out the lights and close my eyes, thousands of images start to flick past, very very fast. random images, not even scary things. but each thing, a person, a tree, a bird, will be small and thin - then GIANT and fat. then thin again. then fat. over and over. this happens so insanely (ha.) quickly, all these things flicking past, changing as they do, that sometimes i scream and have to sit up and turn on the light to focus on something in my room, so as to not see what is behind my eyelids. it makes all those ordinary images extremely frightening.
give me monsters and nightmares, please. i actually really enjoy the nightmares. ('specially the ones with zombies, which i have a lot of.)
end of exposition. (this is only a very small part of what i go through every fucking day.)===
so, as i said, this time, my hysterical fit was really bad.
i had just pierced my lower lip, and mum kept objecting to it. she finally said something snippy and derogatory about it, and i shouted at her,
"i'm twenty-fucking-seven!! i have NOTHING in my life---!!"
and fell to my bed, which is basically in the living room, sobbing.
that evening sure went well.
i woke up the next morning still not having forgiven her, not having forgiven myself for shouting at her for such a stupid reason, and lay in bed reading a book. mum appeared at the edge of the curtain that is my combination wall/door.
"which would you rather be, scarlet o'hara, or scarlet fever?" she asked, forgiving me for shouting at her, patching things in the tense little box we live in.
i gave in a bit.
"well, scarlet o'hara did wear those big, foofy dresses-" i started to mumble.
"never mind, i'm sorry i bothered you." she snapped, and walked away. i was dumbfounded.
"what..? what the FUCK!" i yelled. i had no idea why she would have reacted to my answer that way.
so yeah, i started to cry a little. then, knowing as i always do that crying never does anything (except occasionally get me stuff from concerned strangers) i patted my face dry and returned to my book, concentrating hard on the words.
a few minutes later, she came back, tears in her eyes.
"look, i'm sorry i talked to you, but.. i think after all that we have been through, i do not deserve to be cursed at... that. really hurt my feelings..."
"you were joking with me, and i responded jokingly back! what the hell!!" i said angrily.
"well, i couldn't understand what you said, you were mumbling. i'm sorry i didn't understand you." she turned around quickly and disappeared behind the curtain.
i started to cry again. hard. i started wailing with sobs. then the screaming started. as loud as i could, i screamed for a solid perhaps five minutes, loud, racking sobs in between screams. eventually, i left off the screaming and just wailed and sobbed, soaking my pillow.
then i became completely silent, closed my eyes, and tried to stop breathing. my throat hurt a lot, but that didn't matter.
i didn't move for maybe an hour. then i rolled over, pulled my blanket over me, and fell asleep to escape reality.
i woke up this morning with only a gravelly whisper.
that, my friends, is what happens with me. the tiniest thing, a little bit of nothing, will set me off, and i scream my soul out, then become incapacitated for a full twenty-four hours.
that, my friends, is just a tiny facet of what makes up this disgusting hulk of a thing that i call my self.
want to be my friend still? |
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