I am feeling reflective. Maybe it's the holidays or the year drawing to an end.
I see my MD tomorrow. Checking on the old and figuring out the new. This will be the first time I have seen him since he put me on Wellbutrin. I know he will ask about my mom and about how I am doing. I can't help but reflect back to the absolute pain and helplessness I was going through just a few short months ago.
I have had this image in my head. One I must have seen in a movie before. There is a person who is about to be executed right in front of his loved ones. I see his face. So much dialogue in the silent glance he offers his family. He is pained. There is a look of terror on his face that is an absolute heart-stopping pale faced terror. He has no control over all that is taking him over and he knows that this darkness is taking him quickly.
His words attempt to reassure his loved ones, "it's ok".
But, his face.
He is pleading for mercy, pleading for help, pleading for his life.
I have seen this image. And, it was me.
Absolute terror that the darkness was taking me quickly. I reflect back to how I felt a few months ago and I see a woman pleading for help. Pleading for mercy. Pleading for her life. I could not allow my loved ones to know just how far that terror took me, I would never have allowed them to feel that same helplessness and darkness but that didn't mean I didn't desperately want to be saved. I never once thought of harming myself but I always feared that I would be taken so far away that I would never return.
That image is ingrained in my head. I remember the fear peaking out a few times. Crying out, begging for help, no longer able to bottle up the panic. Very few times, I could no longer say, "it's ok" because I no longer knew what "ok" felt like. Panic attacks should only last for moments. This lasted MONTHS.
Would plead for
I see that image. Often. And, I am so sad for that girl. The isolation she felt even in a room full of love. The pleading in her face. Hoping someone might be able to save her.
I am so thankful that I journaled throughout. Some posted, some kept private, but all poured out of my breaking soul. I never buffered my thoughts when I wrote. Looking back, I see how lucky I am to have had that little moment. That one opportunity to run. To get away from the attack and yell for help. I had someone looking for me. A few someone's in fact.
Yes, I am feeling very