I have had a past with suicide attempts, this overwhelming feeling of just wanting to die, I am so cruel to myself, being disgusted with self from embarrassment when I do something I didn’t mean to, telling myself how stupid and worthless I am, all because of losing my self worth to a silly boy.
I can honestly say the thing that “saved my life” was music and painting. I don’t say this lightly, I have been in hospitals, psychiatrist offices, spent nights in sleep deprived paranoia hearing things that aren’t there that were surely driving me mad, spent hours locked inside of a bathroom as my head spun as I desperately gripped onto my sanity thinking if I were to lose focus of that then my entire mentality would be gone. No one knew this side of me aside from Shawn and my close family. I can barely remember a majority of the worst parts, I assume from blocking it out over the months/year.
I felt I had nothing going for me, absolutely nothing, I was addicted to mental illness and figuring out every little detail to try and figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I felt like my body was being taken over by something dark and I was going completely insane.
And I could talk about anything,
Whether or not it’s worth while,
Is based on who’s listening,
Most of us listen if it’s,
Something we can relate to,
All of us relate,
If it’s something we’ve just been through,
Take it for granted,
Trust is damaged and now we panic,
Living lives like we can’t manage, I can’t feel you,
But still know where home is feeling like Jonah did,
Almost dropped the bat like every base was fully loaded.
So be concerned.
I get flashbacks of those times, nothing I could say to anyone would help me, venting wasn’t an option because I had such defense over my mentality if somebody was trying to “help” I would think the exact opposite. I isolated myself, doctors put me on medications just to rip me off of them until I refused to take another pill and went through an awful withdrawal. I had no friends at this point in my life, I wasn’t even thinking of my ex which was absolutely shocking, I was only worried about my sanity.
I found a way to get my mind wrapped around a piano recently, as well as a set of watercolor paints and a collection of brushes and I have never been able to successfully share my emotions with receiving any sort of mental peace until I found these two things.
I could tell someone everything about me, every secret, every detail, and not feel any emotional release which is why I think I used to share my personal details so easily, in hopes they would help my mind let go and grow, sadly it did the opposite and I became obsessed with attention, cries for help, anything just to get these feelings away. Ever since I’ve begun painting and writing music/poetry, I feel no need to share anything with anyone except through these things and I feel an emotional release through them. Sometimes, habitually, I get the urge to share personal pieces, which for the most part result in me choosing against. All I have to say is that painting and music have saved my life.