You ask me how I am doing and I say I am doing fine. You keep asking me because you know that it isn’t true. You ask me how I am doing- I give you more information, ‘not good’, I say; ‘it’s been a tough week.’
Again you ask because you truly want to help me, I tell you that I think about hurting myself and you get nervous. For you, this is new, something you didn’t know about me but for me, it’s every day life. Every second the thought passes through my mind like a rapid fire rifle.
You start to get uncomfortable and start to show me all the gifts I have in my life and how I would be leaving my family. I hear you but my mind is racing- perhaps I have shared too much? You are on high alert like the United States on a holiday.
I start to shut down. I start to shut down. I can’t talk to you about this because it’s not normal and you have every right to feel the way you do. You have every right to show me what I have and what I would be ‘giving up.’ However, I already know this information.
I start to shut down. My engine is out of gas. The gas light has come on but I have no desire to find a gas station. I have no desire to pump more gas. I can’t make you feel better and keep myself from rolling off the nearest cliff.
You care about me so much and I, you, but we shouldn’t talk about this anymore. You are trying so hard to ‘help’ and I am trying so hard not to shut down but it’s impossible.
From now on, I need to conform with the rules of society. I need to feel what is right even if it’s a lie. Bound my hands and mouth with red tape. I need to conform to societal norms.
And even if I am trying to conform to society, I am cheating myself because I am not validating myself; ‘it’s not me,’ I say, ‘it’s society.’ There is such a stigma on people like myself. We live in a world where we are not accepted and our thoughts and feelings are strange. We are dangerous to the normal society because our thoughts shake up what is considered normal.
I shake up society; much like an earthquake in southern California. The buildings around me our strong but my building is crumbling. No one knows why but my building is not as strong as yours. When an earthquake comes, I hurt people. Bound me in red tape; bound me in yellow caution tape. ‘Do Not Cross,’ it says. Yellow tape is everywhere. You can’t cross because you will see the mess I have become; the mess that I am.
I will rebuild. I will get stronger. I will cut the tape but I need to cut the tape alone. You can’t be there because you don’t have scissors.
Until next time,
Learn to use scissors.