For the lack of a better term I am using “Mental Issue,” M.I. for short, as a blanket term to describe what we have and deal with on a daily basis. I want to use “Issue” because I don’t want to call it an “Illness.”

Illness, to me anyway, implies that it can be cured, it’s something that you caught and didn’t have before. It’s a part of us, it’s in our DNA, and it’s something we didn’t choose to have but something we live with on a daily basis.

When our M.I. kicks in it’s called “An Episode.” An Episode of what? Are we a sitcom or drama that people sit back and watch? While it may certainly feel this way for non M.I.s, for those of us going through said “episode” it feels more like a storm. Comes on with little to no warning. A lot of huffing and puffing, with loud crashes of thunder. For this reason I will refer to them as Storms and not “Episodes.”

By talking we can begin healing and understanding on both
sides. Ask questions and listen to the answers, don’t judge, don’t speak, just listen.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

My Demon Tried Killing Me Last Night

Your demons are just that, yours.  No one can fight them for you, just be there to support you as you do battle. Demons are evil and they fight very dirty. This is one of my battles.
My Demon Tried Killing Me Last Night
My demon tried killing me again last night.  For some reason I was at a station waiting to depart LaLa Land, as I call it.  I took my seat and off we went through the wall of Reality but after breaking through the haze I was back in the parking lot, trying to get back inside the station.
This continued over and over.  Each time it happened I felt more confused and scared than the time before.  The air was cold and reeked of fear.  A dark cloud of anger hovered over the station.
As I walked back through the doors the people in the station were becoming clearer, they were my family, each giving me a look of utter disgust.  Ready to lash out at me and rip me limb from limb.
Each time I walked back in a new family member would appear, adding to the negativeness, their anger crushing my chest like a soda can in their hands.  Meer whispers escaping their lips, unheard by me but sharp enough to quickly cut as I passed by.
The more family member that joined, the louder they became, and I could finally hear their whispers calling for my death.  Those that were closest to me in life where telling me the loudest that I should just die already.  Everyone’s life would be better off if I went through that haze and never returned.  Each time I returned disappointment clearly visible in their eyes.
It was so overwhelming the last time I walked into the station that I ran straight for the platform to depart through the haze once more, hoping it would be the last time.  On the track I had seen my youngest niece dancing in her white dress with the pink bow, without a care in the world.  I smiled, finally, a family member not wishing me dead.
I called out to her and as in life she did not head my calls.  I could see a light coming toward her and I called for her to get off the track, my words falling on the deaf ears of a child.  I moved to pull her to safety and she pushed to escape my arms.
“You’re going to die,” is all I heard her say before everything went dark.
I looked above me and could see a face with large black glasses staring back at me.  Its mouth wide open, as if laughing, but now sound coming forward.  The face came into focus and I could see the face of my daughter’s stuffed nerd Bugs Bunny.
“Scream,” it demanded, without warning, in a dark cold voice.
I complied.
“Scream,” it demanded louder, harsher.
Again I complied as my heart began to beat faster, an invisible hand pulling it slowly out of my chest.
“SCREAM,” its eyes turning blood red, telling me I was about to die.
I complied once more as my body was being shaken.  Light began to break through the darkness and I could see the world around me coming into focus.  I was awake, fully awake, yet my body was still immobile, frozen from fear, my heart pounding so hard it was cracking my ribs.
“SCREAM,” came the voice one last time as I looked up into the ceiling and seen the face laughing before flying off into the corner, disappearing up into drywall.

- Max M. Power

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