however I feel that I’m returning to this blank page as an author of a story who’s been suffering with a severe case of writer’s block. This blank page being part of a chapter and this chapter being part of a story. The story of my life.
I get such a grandeur sense of self sometimes.
I AM THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS ON THIS EARTH.
So why do I feel like I shouldn’t be here, breathing the oxygen like everyone else? Why, when in life everything from the outside appears to be perfect, do I feel like I wish nothing more to do with the whole process of breathing until I don’t anymore?
As Earth is in the early Guardians of the Galaxy comics, I am (in the grand scheme of things) just starting out, full of spunk and adventure.
Alas, the baneful Brotherhood of Badoon are invading, killing off parts of me and enslaving me and changing me entirely, sculpting and moulding me to their image. Obviously by Earth I mean myself and the Brotherhood of Badoon are my inner demons (totes cliché).
(The reason for the GotG reference in a mental health blog I hear you cry? I’m on a major nostalgia trip and am getting back into comics again and also ive just read the original GotG comic and have the others on my bookshelf, patiently awaiting their turn to grace my fingertips PLUS I’ve just seen the film and I can’t get enough of it!)
I kind of measure how I’m feeling by whether I want to kill myself or not (I know, seeing life through rose tinted glasses as always). Why so morbid, you ask? If I want to kill myself, and I mean when I’ve been thinking about it for more than a fleeting second and up to days/weeks, then I know things are getting pretty bad. Well recently, these thoughts have been all to present and correct, pea-cocking in my mind as if showing off and trying to get noticed by me is a hard feat to achieve.
When you actually admit to yourself and accept that ‘committing suicide’ has become a reasonable option in your defense plan, something has to change. Even if you think one thought, just one weeny thought to combat the overbearing chants of ‘Die, Die, Die!’ then you’re doing okay. Like Spielberg told me as a child through the wise words of Goldblum’s Malcolm, ‘Life will find a way’.
Who knows, maybe part of the whole experience is finding your own way through it all. Because at the end of the day, when you feel like suicide is an option, every breath you take is noticeable, the air rushing in as if you’ve just been deep diving and are coming up for air.
So recognise each breath and suck it in and let it fill you with life.
Find the people around you that fill you with love and will put up the scaffolding around you and fix you when you need help.
Finally. Find something that creates a fire in your heart so great that you would do anything to stop it going out. Even if it’s just breathing…