Jealous of the living

I’m tired. I want a break.

I want a break from work, from expectations of me, from winter, from to do lists, from responsibility, from meals…. but we all know that none of these things are really the problem. The problem is in my brain. The problem is always in my brain.

I need a break from people talking to me and also from being alone.

I need a break from missing my routine and a break from having a routine to miss.

I need a break from feeling alive and also a break from feeling dead.

I wish I weren’t so dead. I shut down in the middle of yoga class today. I just had to escape and the only piece of my day that I could let drop was to mentally check out of the one hour I set aside to actually be in the moment.

I had to stop moving my body. It was too heavy. I heard the instructor guide everyone through a beautiful flow while I laid there in shavasana (corpse pose). Jealous of them. Jealous that they were alive and able to move and I was just a dead corpse and couldn’t participate.

Then some tears fell onto my mat. They were probably mine. It just made me so sad that I was dead and I couldn’t do yoga.

I have a vague memory of finding an ability to feel joy like a fluttering bird warming my heart, but I must have relaxed and left the cage door open, because it flew away.

I have a necklace with a picture of a bird on one side and the word “happiness” on the other. It reminds me that eventhough happiness flies away from me like a flighty bird, I am supposed to keep chasing it.

But I’m tired of chasing. I don’t feel like I am able to catch that bird. Today I’m the half eaten worm already hanging out of his mouth.

Dear month of March, I kinda hate you. I know that sometimes I say that to all the months. But you hold a special place of disdain in my heart. Whenever you are around, I always end up dripping tears all over the city.

Galatea of the Spheres by Salvador Dali
Galatea of the Spheres by Salvador Dali – I love this painting.
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5 thoughts on “Jealous of the living

  1. hello my friend. I am reaching out because I feel like something is wrong with my brain. I feel like it is broken and I try to hide it from everyone. Or, if I do reach out, they tell me that I am just imagining things.

    But I know. My brain doesn’t work like other people’s. I get stuck, my RAM is rammed. I can’t process, I can’t think and WHY. IS. EVERYTHING. SO. HARD. Like even the easy stuff is hard and people say “oh that happens to me too” but they don’t know all the things that I have hidden.

    Anyway, I am going to get my head checked out tomorrow. I think I have ADHD and reading about it so many light bUlbs went off and I thought of you and I wondered Layla. Is your brain fuzzed up with ADD or ADHD or bipolar But either way you are amazing and you are loved by me who only knew you for 12 weeks in the winter and spring and of ’10/’11. So fight the good fight.

    I think that you are worth it. I’m listening out here in the darkness and the light.

    Like

    1. Hello sweet friend. I’m so glad that you wrote to me. It is terrifying and frustrating to be screaming for help and have no one understand. Sometimes I get stuck because when I say “I don’t feel well”, people need me to elaborate and when I tell them a fraction of what I feel, they get freaked out. Sometimes they tell me I’m exaggerating and my thoughts can’t possibly be that bad… they can.

      Why can we have a broken arm but not a broken brain? If you feel that your brain is not working well, it’s probably not. I hear you. I’m glad that you are going to a doctor today. I’m still seeing the psychiatrist who ran our therapy group. And I’m on lots of medication. The medication isn’t perfect but it’s like adding some extra RAM (to use your awesome analogy).

      I often have a feeling where I am trying to understand something simple or do a ‘normal’ task and it seems as though my brain is a pile of sludge or quicksand that I have to hike through. I also get a feeling that they call “brain fog” where things are just unclear but it’s hard to explain why. And then, sometimes, it’s like I’m Dorothy waking up in Oz and suddenly I can see and feel all the colours.

      These are muddy tricky waters and it’s hard and scary to swim them alone. I’m here for you. and YOU are 1000% worth it.

      I work and live on the subway line so if you’d like to meet for coffee sometime, I’d love that too.
      xoxo Lyla.

      Like

  2. I know. I just know.
    That is the hell of our illness. Happiness is painfully everywhere – we can see it – but we can’t feel it.
    March can suck it.
    It is April. New month and new days ahead.
    Tell that bird to fuck off. This worm has some worm shit it has to do. xoxo

    Like

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