Sometimes I don’t feel human.
I assess my life and realise it’s a some total of experiences and memories and I get stuck. I realise to some extent everybody is made up of where they’ve been, lessons they’ve learnt, what they’ve faced. It shapes us as people. But sometimes I feel like I’m not a person, I’m a robot, who I am, what I do, it’s dictated by who I once was and who I have been. It feels like I’m on autopilot and it leaves me asking questions like why did I do that? Why are these memories still there? Why does no one know this about me? When will I just be normal?
For the past couple of weeks this has been my state. All because of one thing, one word I said. One counselling session I had and within that just one answer I gave out of many. The word I gave as my answer, a one word answer has left me experiencing flashbacks everyday. Sometimes on the days I’m not distracted, it’s left me experiencing them all day, unable to do anything much more than relive my memories.
I hate the word flashbacks.
It brings to mind Hollywood scenes of people lost in there thoughts then snapping back to reality with people around them looking confused. Whenever I think of the word my mind goes to the newer Charlie and the chocolate factory film. Where Willy Wonka flashes back to his childhood in a dramatic manner and makes people question his sanity. The reality is much different.
I always have the same one to begin with. When it happens I go onto autopilot, it doesn’t stop me doing the things I need to do. I can hold a conversation, work, go about my daily life without anybody noticing. While I’m doing that I’m also lost in my memories. I can remember everything. I can remember the conversation, how everything looked, how I felt, what I was wearing, what the 2 other people involved were wearing. I can remember how the front door looked, how the sun was out, how everyone was sat. It’s all consuming and no matter what I look like I’m doing or thinking, I’m not thinking about anything but what my brain has reminded me of.
I say I always have the same one to begin with, sometimes it’s others but when it’s this one I know I’m in trouble and it’s this one that I’ve had everyday recently.
Once that ones over it goes to another, then another, sometimes it’s stays in the same place, I relive every moment of being in that place. Sometimes it’s stays there for a while and then moves on, suddenly I’m back in the back of an ambulance, I’m back on my bathroom floor, I’m back in hospital.
Sometimes after a few minutes I’ll snap out of it and feel I’ve got away lightly, sometimes it will be hours later and I feel unable to carry on and I beg with myself to forget about it all, to move on, to be normal.
Sometimes, like right now, I debate running away, hopefully thinking if I started a new life somewhere everything would be better, I’d forget everything that’s ever happened and start becoming a person.
Sometimes, like right now, it becomes to painful and I start to hope that I have an overactive imagination. That non of these things really happened and that I’ve made them up without knowing. But as hard as I wish that I know it’s not true.
With the flashbacks come a desperation to tell somebody every single part of my existence. Every story I have to tell and hope that makes them go away, but I know I can never do that.
Sometimes I write it all down, but I’ve learnt that that only makes it more vivid.
Like an unwelcome hotel guest they take up a room in my brain and when they come I’m reminded how much I hate them and I’m left just waiting for them to check out.
They are the part of my life I don’t have a plan for, I don’t have a coping mechanism. They come and go as the please and I am left helpless until they leave.