I wake up to feel a tone of bricks holding me down.
Compressing me like I’m about to take my last final breath. Heart rate thundering – preparing for survival.
Survival from the night of hell. But I must keep going.
I force myself out of bed. Barely standing. Just wanting to break out into tears with the harsh realty of even thinking about faking a smile.
I skip the shower and go straight to covering my face in make up. Concealing not only my never ending eye bags but the thoughts and feelings I don’t want to share with anyone.
Putting on clothes I can’t get to fit right and analysing every inch of me in the mirror.
Feeling guilt and sorrow for the younger me that I tell myself I’ve failed.
Throughout the day I must of said “I’m okay how are you” “I’m doing great… I’ve been doing such and such” a hindered times. Or at least it feels like that.
That’s a lie.
But the smile I wear hides it so it’s okay. It has to be okay.
My heat still beats a bit to quicker, and my muscles are tense. Everything hurts. The shakiness, the sweats, the stomach pains. All in a cycle taking a punch.
To then the thoughts. The thoughts that never stop.
You drive home, leg shaking on the clutch – hopefully to be back in time before the tears I’ve held all let rip.
Behind the closed doors my smile fades. It hurts to keep it there.
About to eat – barely
Watch the tv to distract the thoughts that self analyse and hate my every move.
To go back to bed, just hoping for rest. But instead a swarm of feelings and emotions.
To physically and mentally tired to fight the night. My mind thinks other.
Gifting another sleepless night.
To start it all again the next day.
To wipe the cracked stained mascara of down my face.
And to wear another smile and say it’s all okay.
This is the harsh reality of mental health. One minute the smiles real. The next it hurts to put it there. Who know what may come tomorrow.
Amy’s Blog 