What’s happened to me – where have I gone?
Where has the ability and coping strategy disappeared to?
Why can’t I perform simple tasks and not let them send me askew?
At times I feel like me, for a snippet at a time.
But it only lasts momentarily and then chaos is mine.
Not so long ago I could go it alone.
Sure, I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t have such a need for a home.
But it turns out I did.
It turns out I was,
On my path to this –
This jumble and mess.
The choices I made and decisions I took,
Led me to this place where I feel overwhelmed and shook.
How do I know that the choices I make now,
Won’t take me to the same place no-one should be allowed.
I want to get a grip on it all,
I want to be able to feel like I’m holding my worlds ball.
But I don’t.
I feel like my abilities have been stripped away, right down to the core.
I feel like I kid myself when I think of wanting more.
More from my days, more from my soul.
How can I think I could have this when I can’t even seem to stay on the coping roll.
But that’s what I don’t let myself see.
I don’t let myself have.
That trust in myself and all that I’ve had,
To cope with right now. And to cope with til now.
That’s the thing, when I’m triggered or sent off,
From my pedastool of life I’d gently begun to climb onto,
I forget that I am coping. I am here.
No matter how much I feel I’m not.
No matter how much I feel I won’t,
I have been.
I still will.
Nothing has changed there.
Sure, anxiety feels like it speaks the truth.
It tells me I’m going crazy.
It tells me i’m going to be mad.
It tells me I can’t do this myself.
It tells me all this stress and strain and trauma and pain, will send me over the edge, to a place with no name.
To a place I will be forever, in a band of an alternate reality.
But all this fear, this terror, this anxiety,
Isn’t rooted from me.
It’s rooted from within – from years of watching my ma slip her slippery slope into a world of craziness. Into a world of escape. Into a world of oblivion.
Because she couldn’t cope.
She couldn’t cope with the stressors of life.
She couldn’t cope with the traumas that had been dealt to her by life’s knife.
So how do I know that won’t happen to me?
How do I know I will never be free?
Free from this freak-out, this worry, this distress, that I am in fact crazy.
How do I know I’ll never be free to feel and live like I truly long and deserve to, and CAN?
Maybe I won’t? Maybe I’ll always have this fear, but I long to just be friends with it. To feel a knowing it won’t come true.
We can’t predict the future, that I know for sure.
But what if our instincts – our anxieties, are actually right?
What if I am actually destined to end up crazy. Crazy like my ma. Crazy like my pa.
If that’s the truth, I’d rather not be here. To think of those words said, I’d rather be dead.
Than be crazy and insane. And psychotic or just plain mad, under my name.
But that’s the incorrectness right up there – your instinct and anxiety are two different things.
They might hold the same kind of shape or the same kind of feeling in your gut core,
But what I want to learn – what I want to get a handle on – is how to really spot the difference.
How to really know that my fear of craziness is in fact just anxiety and not my instinct saying stop. Saying you can’t do this. You can’t do this alone. It will make you crazy. It will ruin your life. It will just leave nothing but strife.
Sure, you might feel independent and in charge. And in control of your life, so you feel like you can cope.
But this will only last a while – this determination, this strength.
Because for some reason, I have it in my head,
That I can only do that for so long at the moment.
But what actually is true,
Is the song playing out in my heart.
That song of courage,
And most of all – the song of me.
The song that sings that everything will be okay.
Sunshine to you folks.