It's another night. Lack of sleep. While wiping tears and searching fears. Trying my best to navigate a new beginning each day. I know without promise time stands against change. We condition ourselves with little meaning only to arrive at an intersection of hope and despair. Climbing escapades and downward spirals...opening...closing...to shut again.
Schizophrenia. An illness forcing me into hiding. Where people don't understand and can't accept. If we cannot receive and help one another where does our help come from? Biblically I know. But if we cannot talk or share openly about mental illness then that means I have to hide. I go into hiding. We are all hiding. Which way do you want it? Tell me. Because I need to know. It destroys me to not be able to express myself about my moods, my tears, my fears, my symptoms and all the despair. It all comes across depressing. Yet, if we talk about cancer or diabetes we listen. We try to gain knowledge and understanding. We try. I feel like I get turned the other cheek. Sometimes people roll their eyes. Others cower away while more simply ignore. Some scream and holler. Other's call the cops. This is all unacceptable. Help me. Help me make a difference. So many factors come into play I understand this, but do we continue to just send our loved ones to hospitals and counselors, or do we try to help? Do we even try to really listen? What does it mean to listen? To really hear?
I think for me when I feel heard it makes me feel a dynamic of accomplishment, like I matter and am important. It brings me vitality and life. It does not take dominion over me. This does not always mean we are in agreement but hopefully we can walk away with respect. If we walk away together this is even better.
I need to pour my heart out, but I don't know what lies on my heart. I can't feel what is there. Sometimes I feel dull and numb.
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