White Flag

I want to give in. I surrender. Dear mental illness/disorder/flaw or whatever the fuck you are, I submit. Well, I want to but I’m so goddamn stubborn that I just can’t.

I want to give in and accept the things I believe:

  • I am a flaw in the Universe. As long as I am alive the balance in the world will tip towards bad.
  • To keep my children and family safe I must harm myself to redress the balance.
  • All good things I experience must be punished.
  • At my core an evil side of personality exists. I can only kill this evil by killing myself. The evil is destroying me from the inside.
  • Whenever I think something good then something bad will happen to make sure I stay in my place. I must not get ideas above my station.
  • Everyone leaves. This is because being away from me is the right thing. When people get close things happen to remove those people from my life. Fortunately they are usually good things for the person (they get rewarded for leaving me) but I get so scared that the Universe will take them in a bad way and it is so much safer for people to stay away. It’s my fate and I accept that. I do not blame them.

That’s better. Let it all out. The things I believe that govern my life. My secrets. The beliefs that aren’t delusions because I know they aren’t true except I’m not so sure they aren’t true but I know that saying they are untrue is the correct. It feels glorious to be able to verbalise these feelings. Marvellous. 

And if I really let go I could harm myself with no care for the consequences. How amazing! I could cut, burn, and sand my skin. I could ingest alcohol and pills. On a lesser scale I could just tuck myself up in bed and fluctuate between crying, tearing at my skin and being comatose. Sigh. A girl can dream. I can’t do that though because of ‘The Contradction’.

The Contradiction is that I need to be harmed to keep the kids safe but the behaviour in the paragraph above would actually cause harm to my children so I find myself stuck in this very narrow gap: needing to harm myself in a very contained way. It is exhausting.

So I would dearly love to submit; to wave the white flag; I give up. Let’s just do this illness thing. BUT I am stubborn. Or oppositional. Or wilful. Oppositional and wilful are the preferred terms by the therapists but it all boils down to one thing: Dear illness, I will fight you. 

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