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“Give me the words of a broken poem, and the heart of an empty soul.”13459653_183994772002590_1503834760_n

Words that fell off of the end of my pen last week. They seemed relevant to me, because earlier that day as I was talking to my counselor I began to tell her how I was afraid of getting better, ans how this “neutral” emotion, the flat line emotion, that has been occurring because of my medications was something I’ve never been. I’ve never felt neutral. And I can’t quite grasp it. It makes me feel empty.

The hard and ironic truth is that I’m comfortable in my sadness. I can’t cope with my emotions, but I don’t know how to cope without them either. I’ve made peace in this place, and there’s a lonely bed and broken windows, but it is all I’ve known to be home. I know you look at me, and you see this bright, happy, determined girl. I see me, and I see a blank page. Some days my blank page gives me inspiration to create something beautiful on that page. But I never do, because I am afraid to make something new.

I cling to my despair because it is the only way I’ve known myself to be. And that’s hard. When someone who is generally a happy, joyful person has a bad day and they hit that feeling that would be my norm, they feel uncomfortable and out of place. For someone with mental illness, you feel out of place all the time so that feeling actually makes you feel in place. I feel out of place when I feel happy for long amounts of time.

I have a very hard time regulating my emotions, so I get hit with tornadoes of emotions. I particularly don’t deal with disappointment well. It’s a funny emotion, because we all can feel disappointed over mundane and 13459594_183994762002591_2044767526_nsmall things. Disappointment can lead you into all sorts of other feelings as well, there’s not one particular way we respond to it. For me, it is triggered by retroactive jealousy, or abandonment (AKA overthinking, a BPD tendency). All triggers that bring us full circle to me being incredibly insecure about everything. And, like I said, I’m comfortable here.


With all of that said, I am working to change those thoughts. I hope that you are too. I hope that one day you can feel at home in the neutral state of contentedness, and I hope I can meet you there. It’s a long and exhausting trek of recovery, but a worthwhile fight. I also know that the reason I am comfortable in drowning is because I’ve never allowed myself to swim. Because of that it’s made recovery difficult on my own, so the real way for me to fix this is by taking the hands of those willing to rescue me. Reaching out, and allowing others to help me sort my thoughts and feelings. Realizing that my feelings are valid no matter what. Yours are too. That is the hardest part of this battle for anyone, but I believe in you. They say that the only person who can help you is yourself, which is true, but having help from other people is crucial. You need to help yourself by allowing yourself the will and hope to start recovery, and then by allowing the help you need from professionals and loved ones. I promise you there are a million people in this world who love, and are willing to give you love, encouragement, guidance, strength and hope to heal. I am one.

If you ever wake up, and think that no one needs you,
I need you.

If you ever wake up and think that there’s no love,
I love you.

If you ever wake up and can’t find your purpose,
I will hold a candle and help you find it.

If you ever wake up, and don’t know who or why you are,
I can tell you.

If you ever wake up and don’t know why you bothered,
I will remind you.

Please remember me, and allow me to give you reasons.

– Iain S. Thomas (I wrote this for you)

About Emma Holden

18, tea enthusiast, animal lover, word writer, and wants to change the stigma on mental health one blog post at a time.

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