Vacuum

I feel like my living room is closing in around me. My chest feels like someone is sitting on top of me and I can feel the weight of the walls and the room above me closing in, yet I can see that the walls are stable.

I can rationally tell myself that these are just the bad brain thoughts, or feelings, but that is as far as I have ever been able to figure out how to control these moments. I don’t know what exactly causes them, but I do know that before they start I often feel as if my life is in a vacuum, with no air and no motion. Just stuck in nothingness. There is not an option for getting out because there is no way to move. I feel more than trapped. I feel immobile in both my life and in my actions. No right choice to make, because in these moments there are no choices, except the one I am making right now, and that is to write about how it feels.

I’m not sure how this feeling would be diagnosed, but it is probably treated with either anti-psychotic medication or anti-depressants, either way those meds don’t work for me. They make my heart race, increase my anxiety, make me manic, or completely suicidal. I don’t know how to properly explain this feeling to anyone. I have tried before, and people always give me a look that is supposed to be comforting, but shows in its depths that they don’t understand and that I am probably deeply disturbed.

I might be deeply disturbed, I mean, how could I not when I am sitting here, typing on my laptop, and I feel as if I’m in a pile of rubble, and I’m trapped and unable to move away to get a breath of fresh air. Yet I can see that the walls are still standing, and I can hear that regular life goes on regardless of how I feel right now.

This makes me then feel as if what happens to me is in a bubble and doesn’t affect anyone else. I feel as if what I do affect is negative and then I wonder why I bother to force the air in and out of my lungs. This is not a feeling that I interpret as a desire for death, but as a desire for change. The problem is that every time I try to make changes in my life, old pieces come in to drag me back to the place that I don’t want to be.

I don’t want to feel useless or unwanted, but I often do. I feel like an unimportant piece in a machine. The part that you can take out and it still works. A program on a computer that when removed, causes the machine to run faster, and with great accuracy.

I’m sure this is all part of some depression, but it is how I feel right this moment. It may pass, and it may not. I will continue though because I haven’t got a choice in that. I just keep breathing, and hoping eventually it becomes easier. But if it doesn’t then, I will pretend because nobody ever wants to know when you feel like this. It’s too much to handle, because they don’t have the answers either. Then my mental health become a burden for others, and I never want that. I just want to feel better.

This is the crazy I don’t want to embrace, because it scares me.