In my solitary confinement
in the grip of depression
in the darkness of anxiety
in the roller-coaster that is bipolar
It gets so pitch black, at times you forget your own existence. It becomes like a never ending nightmare of you being chased in a complicated maze, round and round. Your feet seem cemented and even though you feel light headed and weak, you can’t stop because what’s behind you is worse than what is ahead.
At times you feel lit on blazing fire that has no mercy on you. Other times you feel crushed beneath the ocean, suffocating and gasping for air, but only filling your lungs with water.
I swear, at times the emotional pain just grows and spills over to be physical pain and no amount of pain killers seem to reduce it. You can’t sleep it off or binge eat it off. You feel like you are in labour, or like menstrual cramps, with pain shooting down your legs and collecting in the soles of your feet, boiling.
On bad days, really bad days, all the elements of pain come together in unison and that’s when I find myself on the edge of life. Like I’m standing on the very edge of a cliff, looking down an endless pit that seems more welcoming than life. An endless pit that beckons with promises of pain relief and a release from the shackles that twist my mind and leave my muscles in knots, unable to relax them. An endless pit in contrast to the demons that chased me to this cliff, well there’s no competition there.
But every single time, something makes me turn my heel and move away from the edge into the shackles of the demons. Every single time, I am baffled as to why on earth I would voluntarily go back to this dungeon I call mind? When I could stop this instantly.
My heart knew why but my mind was tangled to understand and today , I think today I finally realized. I realized what leads the way on days when I get lost in the maze. I realized what keeps me company when I get lonely, what warms me when I get cold. I realized what emits a faint light to make out the ground I’m walking on.
What moves me away from that cliff on bad days , really bad days.
It’s the voice of hope that speaks to my heart, gentle and merciful. A voice that promises that I soon will see the sun rise. A voice that promises that soon this famine will be freed by torrents of rain. A voice I choose to believe in.