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  • Writer's pictureMike Douglas

My Episodes - a Mental Health Story

I can feel myself zoning out, my consciousness changing. My eyes become fixed on one point. It's a struggle to move my focus, but I am also trying to focus to focus my thinking. That makes me chuckle, in so many ways it seems like a metaphor for what I feel is going on. A struggle within a struggle.

Once my eyes are fixed I find my body starts to become less mine, and more one I exist within. I am now a smaller me within this body. I'm shouting, "move, think of something else, move move!" But nothing happens. The spiral continues, sometimes slowly sometimes quickly. By this stage I can't move myself away without some sort of intervention or support from someone else.

Emotion runs through me, seemingly seeping out my eyes, nose and mouth. To everyone else it appears as snot and tears. To me it is evidence. Evidence that once again I have been unable to control myself, my emotions, my feelings, my body, everything that is me, is no longer in my control.

The sad part is this is not the worst part.

The tears, sadnesses and sorrow turn to self hate, anger, disappointment and rage. In this moment, having thought I'd lost control, I somehow lose more. My hand progress from twitching (which by the way started, but I had not noticed) and is now about to swing. My body curls into a ball, rocking back and forth. The escalation is coming, my breathing is deeper and quicker. I know it's coming and I'm scared, I'm sad, I'm disappointed and I'm angry.

If I'm lucky, I'm at home and able to at least direct my outlash at the floor, however too often this leads to hitting my head or legs. This outburst can last for different lengths of time, but I think often less that a couple of minutes. However the cycle can loop around a couple of times (o yay!).

Once this passes, I am exhausted and humiliated. I lay on my side wondering how I became like this. Hoping only that there isn't another cycle coming. Quite soon the smaller me inside is ready to get up and on with things, however I can not move. The smaller me says "come on, I can do this. Just move, open your eyes, get up, let's go. Get up!" But alas I'm still on the floor, eyes closed, probably crying at the state I'm in. Exhausted.

After a while I am able to move, often my thoughts are simply to move of the floor (hahaha) to somewhere more suitable. To get a drink (my mouth is very dry at this point), and try to detract from the seriousness of what just happened. It's sad, scary and disappointing. Not to mention the humiliation I feel.

It's actually been really easy to write this, because I have just come round from one such episode. The hard part will be posting. So in true form, I'm going to do it straight away and try not to think about it until after.

This will of course help me to some extent, but hopefully it may help someone else who maybe struggling with their own journey.

Thanks for reading


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