[2008-11-24e11:03:06]
Right now I find I'm lost. Abandoned in an unfamiliar place where I don't understand what is going on around me, where I can't find the path back to familiar ground. I've been lost for months. I don't even feel I ever left hospital. I've merely been bounced from room to room. Left locked away until I allow the medication to send me to sleep. Sleepwalkers behave, they listen to the other voices, the ones that speak of things which just are. You're a sleepwalker, you hear these voices, but you're too comatose to hear them for what they are.
You walk into an office to sign for a flat. To you it's reasonable to hand over the documents to prove your identity. To sign the snow-storm of paperwork merely because it's passed in-front of you. To me paperwork does not count unless you understand it, and papers proving identity serve only to enslave. But nobody listens to that sort of talk. So I find myself escorted to appointments by support workers; people who flash their ID and coerce me into rejecting myself. "It's just the way things are," they exclaim when I protest. So I sign what I'm handed without reading, hand over the papers they demand. "It's the identity of a deadman," my voices tell me. Finding in this that I may do what required without protest.
That day has passed yet still I find myself trapped between domains. For something was felt, something beyond words and reason, something dragged-up from inside me seeking resolution. It effects my behaviour, locks me into a pattern of dysfunction. Again and again I see the events confronting me in the light of that day, support-workers trying to trick me into agreeing to something. So I back-off, do nothing, search my feelings as I try to resolve the conflict. Try to put it into words and it begins to sound silly, try to confront the emotions and I begin to feel aggressive hostility. If I were to reject myself and become what is expected I'd become physically ill simply to hide the lie. So for me, for now, doing nothing is the safest thing for me to do.
Only I've already made mistakes. Allowed different others to override my sense of what should be, of what it was I wanted. In doing so I see how I'm being played with. Of how the choices I'm being offered collapse so that again I find I'm being handed the keys to a prison. One that seeks to mirror the one I'm already living in. Now the voices begin to scream in my mind. Yet I'm too off centre to speak with them. The world in which I find myself denies me the space I need to find balance. So I walk around in circles. Seek comfort in the security of familiar places and behaviours. Attempt to dissociate my mind from that which plagues me in the hope it won't be quite so bad when it returns.