January 2, 2017

On December 23, 2016 I wrote myself a letter.

 

December 23th, 2016

Dear me,

I will write you a letter because of your pain. I’m gonna write a piece of letter to all my demons, those who cause your pain. But in the end, I will love you again. You, and only you. And I will have destroyed my demons, so you and me will be in peace with each other again.

So here it will start…

Dear social anxiety,

You are the one causing my loneliness. People don’t understand why I can’t be with them. People just can’t understand. It’s not your fault I can’t be out there with them, I know that. Believe me, I am aware. But you are the one causing my fears of ending up alone, all by myself. It’s because of you I can’t be the fun friend anymore. I am so scared that people will notice me fighting my demons. I don’t want to be weak in front of so many people. So I shut myself out. I end up alone, sitting in a corner of a room, with you in the doorstep. You’re happy. You won. I’ll stay there. Nobody around me. Nobody to care for me. Just you and me. And all of my other demons.

Dear agoraphobia,

You are like the sister of my social anxiety. You don’t want me to go out there. Because when I do, you’ll have me have a panic attack. When I’m around too many people, you’ll make sure I’ll end up crying like a little baby who’s left by its mom. I don’t feel safe either, little baby. I feel like I’m just as small as you. There are so many people out there trying to hurt us. The only thing you’ll have to do is survive. Keep your eyes closed, so you won’t notice those people. You’ll have the hope the people will disappear soon, so you’ll be confident to head anywhere where you’ll feel safe again. The voices of the people, it’s like they’re all screaming. It’s like I’m being in an arena where anyone can hurt me because I’m a person who did wrong to the world and deserves it. But I don’t, do I? They’re coming for me. They will hurt me. With their words, their actions. They yell at me, knock me down. There’s just too many faces, all looking at me. I’m so small, they’re so tall. They want me to kneel. I’m kneeling. It’s not enough. They smell awful. I can’t focus on all the different faces. The people are hurting me. Emotionally, physically. I’m in pain. There are too many incentives. I can’t tell right from wrong. I can’t tell what’s nor who’s real. They’re all spitting their thoughts about me in my face. I’m weak. Sick. Needy. They’re screaming. I notice I’m screaming. Screaming to the moon. Crying. In the middle of the arena. But in reality, I’m not in an arena. I’m in the middle of an agora. Nobody yells at me. It’s just in my head. You are in my head. You make it impossible for me to go out there. I’ll end up alone because of you. I’ll end up in the corner of my room, with you, my social anxiety and all my other demons.

Dear psychosis caused by anxiety,

You are the one I only met once in my life. I don’t even remember you. But you made other people remember me. You made me a monster. You made me scream, yell, cry, agressive, scared, shake the nerves out of my body and made me feel like I was dealing with a dissocative identity disorder. I didn’t know I was capable of psysically hurting people who mean the world to me. You took over my body. You did things I can’t remember and I can’t fix anymore. The damage is already done. My brain is hurt because of you. It’s my agoraphobia what triggered you. I’m avoiding it, to avoid you. I never want to meet you again. I never want my beloved people to meet you, ever again. I want control over my body. I want to feel things that are real. I don’t want to feel threated by something or someone who really isn’t there. I want to feel safe in my own body, with my own brain. I don’t want you to cause any more hallucinations. I don’t want you to cause any more problems. I don’t want you to cause any more demons.

Dear depression,

You’ll have me laying here. In my safe haven. The only place I’ll want to stay forever. I can’t get up. I can’t get myself to do anything. All those things don’t matter. You matter. You’re the only one on my mind. And I let you. You’re overly present. You’re the only one I can think about. Like my agoraphobia, you’ll have me kneeling. I’m down at the floor. I can’t move. I can’t live my life anymore. You’ll have me feeling everything that much, my body is hurting. You’ll have me feeling so empty. You’ll make me lose my appetite. You’ll make me overeat. I’m all alone. It’s dark. All I can see are the tears streaming down my face. I can only think about all the bad things in my life, in the world. I can’t imagine myself out there anymore, facing the world. I can’t fight the world anymore. I’m safe here. I’m staying here forever. There’s no positivity left. None of it. No light. Only darkness. Medicines don’t work. The only thing I can do is cry. Crying. Collapsing. Mysery. It’s all there is. It’s just that, with the rest of all my other demons.

Dear nightmares,

You’ll have me sleepless. Because my lack of sleep, I’m even more depressed. You’ll make me anxious. You’ll have me panic. I’m transpiring because of you, more than a lot. I’m so tired. You’re causing me headaches. I’m reliving my trauma because of you, every night. But sometimes, you’re even here in daylight. You’ll confront me with my deepest fears. I don’t want to relive my memories. It causes too many pain. You’re hurting me. Make it stop. You’re showing me my life, like a movie. Over and over again. Shaking. Waking. I’ll fall asleep again, eventually. But when I do, you’re welcoming me again. And you’re so not welcome. Not you, and not my other demons.

Dear suicide,

You make me want to end my life. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to live another day. Not in this pain. I don’t see the purpose in life anymore. I don’t want to hurt myself any more; my brain is already in so much pain. The pain expresses itself in my demons; anxiety, depression, suicide. But you are the one that will make me want to hurt myself a bit more. To end all the other hurtings. I don’t plan to hurt myself, I’ll have hope someone does it to me. Like one specific person made me go through all this, through this living hell. I’ll want to fall asleep and never wake up again. I never want to experience the fear, the anxiety, the anger, the depression, the suicidal thoughts ever again. I never want to experience life like this ever again. Make it stop. Make the thoughts, the screaming thoughts stop. The only remedy is suicide. Never wake up again. Never have to survive another day in this living hell. I don’t want to live another day with this many demons inside my head.

Dear PTSD,

You’re the one who hide the longest. I know you were there all along. You just didn’t show yourself. I can’t see you. Other people can. I know it’s not fair; you shouldn’t have born. But you are. It’s illegal to kill a newborn. So I can’t kill you. But it isn’t illegal to kill yourself, is it, Suicide? He made you be born. I wish you were never created. But you are. I’ll have to deal with you. You’re so young, but you’re growing so fast. I can’t keep you small anymore. You’re out there; in my world, in the world. You’ll die when I die. But in the meantime, I’ll just have to live with you. How? I don’t know. You’ll forever be my enemy. My biggest fear. My deepest demon. You make me go through this living hell. You made my other demons live their own lifes. You made me feel unworthy. I’m not worth living. My demons tell me so. At first, I didn’t want to listen. But now I do. I listen, very carefully.

But soon, you’ll have to listen.

Because…

Dear me,

This isn’t going to last forever. I know it feels like it will. Believe me, it won’t. Time won’t heal. You’ll have to find your own way to recover. I know you don’t know me, nor don’t want to know me. I also don’t want you to know me. Find your own remedy. Find it in yourself, not in other people. You are the only one who still stand by your side forever. Anyone else can disappear whenever they want. You’re here, with you, forever. You’ll be okay. If you’re not, tell yourself again tomorrow. Because some day, eventually, you’ll be okay. Your demons will always be with you, but they’re not deciding for you anymore. You’re taking the control over your own life back. Make yourself happy. Don’t let your happiness depend on someone else. You. It’s about you. Your life is about you. You. You. You. Not about your demons. You.

 

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