Sensing an Edge

August 23, 2021 ([+]/ -) / 11:09 p.m. / In my entry about my high school years, I referenced my interest in Columbine. To this day, I’m still interested in the events that occurred in Littleton, Colorado, but less about the shooting itself and more so the shooter’s mother, Sue Klebold, who is a personal hero of mine.

If I’m ever depressed or think of suicide, I listen to Sue’s conversations about her grief, her story, and her mission to help others. She is one of the reasons I am keeping a log of my mental health, because a problem she faces is not having a concrete answer, and there are plenty of individuals who also don’t have answers as to why people do what they do, whether it be killing themselves, hurting others (either physically or emotionally), self-harm, or mania, in general.

I understand mental illness is very complex, and my Medium posts alone cannot provide all the answers . But I can at least try to leave accounts of my problems to help people find answers.

There are a lot of individuals who admire Sue because of her survival, and I respect her in that regard, too. Yet I also admire Sue because I needed (and still need) someone like her to step into my life and encourage me to seek help.

I can’t give you a straight answer as to why I want to die sometimes — only that my brain is wired this way. And for the people I’ve hurt emotionally and mentally in my life, yes, I take responsibility, and there are reasons as to why I lashed out — reasons that I can’t entirely blame on mental illness — however, I will say that my brain just wasn’t right. Freedom from consequence and a personal truth I have to face? No. But I (we) cannot neglect the fact that something in the brain didn’t connect. This is a fact.

When I read A Mother’s Reckoning, I realized the importance of brain health , which she argues is not the same as mental health, and the memoir urged me to be aware of how the brain malfunctions like any other organ. Because oftentimes my brain attacks me; it makes me think and believe in the irrational; it causes me to sometimes act irrationally; it will lead me to feel like everything is fine, then allow me to plummet at random.; it will add a twisted filter over my perception of the world.

As for my day, well, here’s what happened:

At my first job, I could feel the small jerk of a downward tilt, like one of those roller coasters who pause for suspense before the drop. I know the drop is coming. When? I can’t say. So, I made my first payment for my new health insurance coverage and searched for a psychiatrist. (Note to self: cancel current plan on the way to the internship tomorrow.) Then I worked on EAC 581 for a bit. I didn’t want to speak to K_G, my supervisor at the community college. Nothing personal, I just felt scattered in my thinking; however, I decided to communicate about COVID-19.

When 1:30 p.m. came around, I left the community college and drove to my internship. Upon arrival, I refused to speak to anyone, especially R_F. I kept thinking, You can’t trust him. He may have done something. And as for my boss at the newswire service, I will not look at him, in fear that I’ll give him a death glare.

My thoughts around this internship sometimes spin out of control, because I need an answer as to why I’m not good enough when I am, in fact, good enough. I need an explanation as badly as one needs a cigarette. The thought that someone will be sitting where I’ve been sitting makes me want to look over at the girl beside me and say, “Be sure that whoever takes over knows I did well — and don’t talk shit about me, because I know you want to.”

The silence on my end lasted two and a half hours before some guy walked up and asked what I did over the weekend.

“I played video games,” I answered.

“Which ones?”

Silent Hill 2 — I plugged up my old PS2. Indulged in nostalgia.”

We continued to discuss video games from our past, and I told him how I used to love, love, love Indigo Prophecy. Yet, all the while, my brain was telling me to freak. Why bother being nice to me? I wanted to ask. I’m trash. I don’t belong to your organization.

But… I didn’t say this.

To keep the peace, I eventually spoke to R_F after the random guy orbited back to his office. We talked, I laughed, he laughed, but the voice in my head said, Keep your distance. Keep your distance from all of them. Because one of them is the reason why you’re fucked.

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Bipolarized

Bipolarized

A #MH log, where I document my experiences. May this blog be a tool for research. + (good days); - (bad days); [] (a mix, with one being more than the other).