I’m sure that title drew you in a little bit, didn’t it?
Aside from the normal amount of teen angst and sadness I should feel, I have other worlds on my shoulders to carry. Worlds I don’t wish to share with the Internet. But we all have bad days and I’ve seemed to master how to get through them half way.
I wake up and within a few minutes my brain is on fire. Pressure fills my skull and tries to force its way out of my ears and eyes. Lights bright and sounds deafening, I walk through every day feeling like my body is under siege. Small soldiers fire away on either side of my brain and I hear the bullets whistling loudly as they run in air to meet their victim. They’re shouting oh so angrily and I try to calm them down with notes of quiet songs and the silence of lonely bedrooms, but they insist on making my head a war zone. It’s too loud and too bright yet again. People motions are too abrupt. Their voices abrasive. Teachers creak on like a never still rocking chair. I can’t get out. I can’t leave. Smells of a putrid cafeteria trap and suffocate me in my very own vessel, even the smell of a fruit roll up magnified by ten. Every sense is heightened, and despite the number of pills I swallow or hippie remedies I try, nothing seems to help the migraines that infringe on my every day life.
That is not to say nothing ever will in the future or that I am giving up hope entirely, no. I’m merely coming to the realization that maturity is keeping your hope to a minimum in a safe jar tucked in between your ribs. No one can crack glass if they don’t know it exists.
My other issues exist in vicious cycle that seems to run me dry. My anxiety leads to migraines which leads to more anxiety and panic attacks which leads to more migraines and so on la da da da da. All of this contributes to my over all unhappiness, also known as depression. That big scary word with fun commercials that have a bunch of little cartoon people with umbrellas and rain and clouds telling you to go on antidepressants. You know the type.
The region from the neck up contributes to this idea of me not wanting to do things. Or me not even able to do things. How I even got up this morning or last is a mystery to me. And how I will tomorrow is tomorrow’s challenge to face.
What I do know, though, is how I remember things. The process in which I walk myself though things is the most powerful thing I can do. It is more powerful than a panic attack or a migraine or a rapid series of anxious thoughts. I am an extremely obsessive person, so nostalgia is one of the strongest emotions I feel. When I wake up in the morning and can’t move well right off the bat or don’t have something to look forward to, I think of something that happened to me. I think of my summers in Michigan or a time at a concert or my best friend’s birthday. When I do this, there is a kick in my stomach.
I feel so strongly about a specific period in time. Whether this be good or bad, I feel something. That is the point of this thing that I do, and subconsciously I know that. There is a strong desire to get out of bed out of fear that that day will be filled with something I will regret missing.
That is how to live when you really, really, really don’t want to.