It's not something I put too much thought into, my own emotions. In fact I tend to bottle them or not even acknowledge them. As a mom and a wife I try to pay attention to their emotions, at least that's what I tell myself in my lows/depressive state. In these states I become a monster, cranky, avoid light and people. And worse yet I get in this weird grove of denying myself, I don't even realize that I'm doing it. Skipping meals, Not participating in fun and a general state of not caring for myself. I began to see my pattern when I read the blog post of a new friend, she used a perfect analogy, I asked her permission to roll with adding my own twist, as this is my roller coaster.
TodayTomorrowForever Ella describes her experience with mental illness as a rollercoaster, light bulb moment. This is what I've been experiencing and I've been riding the same damn roller coaster for years! Right now I'm at the part of the ride where I have reach the very top of the hill and I can see the horizon. The bright future of what could be, I'm above the fog. I realize my head is clear and I feel great. Straight up Manic! Doing great, getting things done, having a good time, talking to people, showering, and even eating a few good meals. But then I begin to make the mistake of looking around as I'm chillin' on top of my rollercoaster.
I take my eyes off the horizon for a moment looking down, realizing how high in the air I am. Fear sets in, I can't seem to look back to the bright horizon. Can only look down at the fog I came out of. Hope of exiting this ride is gone, suddenly I start to hear voices echoing from behind me. Voices all too familiar, voices pointing out my failure, hateful discouraging and then memories of these events begin to flood back, bringing with them all those emotions I bottled up. Reminding me of the darkness, of the bad times, the abuse and all the discussion I made that I regret. I look back to the voices to see if those people are truly behind me, they are so far in the back ground I can't make out their faces but I can still hear their ugly words.
My eyes are then drawn to a figure barreling right for me, coming up the tracks, this too is a familiar figure. Its my depression, in the form of a giant monkey, he leaps onto my back with linebacker force, excited as he tips my cart down the spiral track of despair, as he settles into he favorite spot on my back. He drives us back into my foggy cave until the next time some comes along and shines a bright enough light to scare that monkey off long enough for the track to bring me back up to the top. Now if I can only figure out how to keep that horizon in my view, not to look down, keep those voices quiet and that monkey of my back. Then maybe I can get off this shitty ride.