make friends with your monsters

It’s lonely here tonight. Beyond my window, it’s vantablack, nothing even resembles light. I’m unable to sleep…restless. Worried. An appointment at week’s end is bringing up things I’d rather leave to the graveyard, well kept and orderly in the back of my mind.

I fancy myself as an open book. I so despise secrets. However, my closet door will barely close for all the skeletons inside. Some haunt, others taunt. Others simply linger about in the shadows. Now and again, I’ve had occasion to pull them all out, like old dolls from childhood. They’ve been dusted off, polished, played with, and put away, until the next time they are needed to bear witness. 

This Friday, their time will come ’round again, as I look into the face of a psychiatrist and explain away prior diagnoses and current behavior. I’ll minimize the fact that I cannot even shop for myself, or explain away why I, sometimes, don’t leave the house for weeks at a time. 

I know that, no matter what I say, it’s going to be the same diagnosis. I have been untreated for thirteen years now. Except for the panic, I’m fine. You learn to live with what you must. That’s life for everyone. I’m no exception. 

Psych drugs don’t work on me. They say the state of the art treatment for a drug resistant patient, once you’ve tried them on different combos of magic beans, is electro shock therapy. The lil shocker looks like something you’d plug into an iPod. I’m sure it’s a much kinder, gentler way of fixing damaged goods. However, I won’t be a participant in the snake oil carnival. I’m only going in order to satisfy a legal matter. 

I don’t like labels that cause others to look at you with an awkward eye. Particularly if you’ve handled most of the requisite aspects of life in exactly the way you should. I also find labels terrifying. When I look at my brother, I can’t help but wonder if that will be me, one day. I couldn’t bear it. Lost in my own head, keeping company with only those who live inside it. I’d never let that happen. I simply could not. I hate that there are words to define it.

I think I’ll try and get some sleep. Surely, it can’t be too far off. I pray for dreamless slumber tonight. I’m exhausted from these nights of constant interruption, punctuated by the sound of those old skeletons, clammering about like broken wind chimes. 

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