My brain broke today and I had to piece it back together every few minutes, which is exhausting. When I am in overwhelm, words do not come easily to me, so communicating is excruciatingly difficult and I just stare into space. I welcome other peoples words, as I don’t have any that come easily. Yet, taking in what they are saying, and attempting to respond is exhausting. I have to punch the words out of my mouth and hope they make sense. This is a reflection of all the thoughts that are going on in my head. It gets flooded, and what spills over as my communication is nonsensical at best. I can tell by other people’s reactions that I have stopped making sense. “What did you do wrong this time?” is what the black beast is shouting at me. I cannot make a right move. It is a false narrative, but one that is believed when there are no positive words to balance it out.

So I have to find a part of my brain that will cooperate with generating positive messages. For a few minutes every day, good thoughts will be welcomed in. It’s like the beast takes a brief nap, and that is the time I attempt to churn all the positive energy, thinking, and words into my being. That keeps me going for a few minutes more, and then the process repeats itself. All day it is a battle.

Handling emotions is another operation that runs in the background. I feel like crying, but as usual, I cannot. I want to be excited about what you are telling me, but I am not allowed. Everything seems like it takes too much energy. I can’t possibly function enough to play a game, but I can peel potatoes, it is calming. So that is a positive moment that crept through the confusion, urging me to find something repetitive and comforting. I make a mental note that cooking can be therapy. As long as it is peeling and chopping. I can barely manage to follow a recipe, but it brings my brain to center to try. So I don’t give up, I will never give up because somewhere in there is a life worth living. I will find it again tomorrow.

*black beast is a term Terri Cheyney uses as an altar ego for her childhood bipolar. Because I am relating to it so much, I have used the words so I can curl up in the understanding within someone else’s world. It’s a way to avoid “going it alone.”