There are many things about a mental health decline that suck, but being self aware has to be the worst for me.
What does it mean to be self aware?
Self-awareness involves being aware of different aspects of the self including traits, behaviors, and feelings.
Verywell Mind
I’ve always been very self aware. I know how I feel and I can tell when it changes. I don’t spiral into that pit blissfully unaware that it’s happening. I feel it. I know it’s happening, but I can’t do anything about it.
I’m like a self aware puppet with no control over my actions.
My brain says ”god this house is like a pigsty, and take a shower you disgusting b*tch”, but my puppeteer refuses to make my body move. I just stay in my place paralyzed and unable to do what I know that I need to.
The price man pays for consciousness is insecurity.
Humans In The Universe
It’s a most horrendous feeling.
To know that you’re spiraling into darkness is a terrifying feeling. It feels like drowning in the sea. I know that I am sinking, that I can’t breathe and I can’t reach the surface- but every time I try to swim back up to catch my breath a huge wave comes over and forces me back down, holding me under.
The price I pay for my self awareness is that I know exactly how I feel, I see my shortfalls, I’m aware of my irrationality.
It means that I know that I have a good life, I know that I am lucky. I have all the reasons in the world to be happy but none of the serotonin to make me feel it.
So, as well as feeling sad. I now feel guilty, and selfish, and embarrassed, and dumb. And so, the self loathing grows.
Being self aware is hard…
It’s hard to have such negative feelings towards your own feelings. You shouldn’t express your feelings if your feelings are selfish and dumb. So you keep them to yourself and they build up and up until you feel like you might just explode.
Lately I feel like I just might.
Lately I vary, flicking between numb and overwhelmed. I feel nothing or I feel everything. From one extreme to the other, I want to laugh or I want to cry. Each day seeing a range of all of my different emotions.
Saturday 25th June was Bude Pride. I woke up in the morning and the sun was shining.
F*ck. It was forecast rain. I’d only packed for cold weather. Tears. Mum offered me her entire wardrobe- wear what you like. More tears. I won’t look like me. I’m so fat. I’m not going. I have to go. I don’t want too. I want to go back to bed and just cry there until I go into hibernation. I threw something on. I hated it. I had to leave. I wore it and felt numb.
I arrived at Pride and was handed my Volunteer vest. Joy. I was a part of something amazing. There was love and acceptance. I felt loved and accepted. I spoke to anyone and everyone, sharing laughter and love. It was incredible. The day was coming to an end. There was tears all around. Tears of pride. We’d been part of something wonderful.
Then it was the afterparty. I walked up, looking over the cliffs at the sea. I was at peace. I went to the door and they ticked me off the guestlist. Excitement. I’ve never been on a guestlist before. One foot through the door- anxiety. It hits me so hard I’m surprised I didn’t physically recoil. I met lots of people that day… but I didn’t know anyone. No one that wasn’t extremely busy anyway.
I sat by myself in the corner to watch the entertainment. Lots of people came and spoke to me- sh*t that’s worse. I can’t hold a conversation. But you can hold a conversation Millie you f*cking idiot! Nope, they gave up (I don’t blame them, you can’t get blood from a stone). I was alone again. A (very drunk) volunteer I’d spent a lot of the day with appeared, “don’t sit on your own, come and dance with us and you’ll get to know people! I’m just gunna pee then I’m gunna come get you! I love you man”. Nope. Too much.
Full. Blown. Panic. Attack.
Speed walking past the security. Outside. Don’t cry where people can see you. They’re nice. They’ll ask if you’re okay, they’ll make it worse. Run. Don’t run, just be quick. Get out of here!
I was outside, sat on the grass and listening to the waves. Just trying to calm myself down. Seriously Millie, you dumb b*tch. He was trying to help you. I managed to calm myself down. I went back inside. Fueled by the determination not to let my stupid brain ruin my night. I sat there uncomfortably for another ten minutes, and I left.
The whole way home replaying the after party scenario and how I could’ve handled it differently. Trying not to distract myself. Don’t let one blip ruin an amazing day. So instead I tried hard to think about all of the wonderful feelings I had experienced throughout the day.
That’s most days.
My new daily routine: wake up. Avoid the mirror- you’re fat. Try not to cry into your shreddies. Do the parent thing,w orry that you’re not good enough. Do some more parenting, feel some joy that you made something so wonderful. Get over-emotional cause the TinyHuman giggled at you and it filled your heart. The Man is home- time to be grumpy at him for the daring to exist in your presence even though you’d be heartbroken if he were anywhere other than your personal space. Have a bath. Hate yourself- you’re still fat. Lose yourself in the void- turns out you blinked and three hours passed, you’re freezing cold, and yet emotionally stuck and so physically paralyzed. Eventually you get out. Get dry and dressed quicker than anyone else ever because… yep, you guessed it- ya fat. Get into bed and lie awake unable to sleep just thinking about how deeply you hate yourself.
I wish I wasn’t so god damn self aware.
Ignorance might just be bliss.
I am aware that sometimes my blogs can make for a difficult read. I know this. So please, please, if you are struggling or find yourself affected by anything that I say at all, head over to my About Me page where you will find resources to support with your mental health.
