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On one hand I know what I have is an illness--something has gone horribly wrong in my brain chemically because it can be solved with chemicals.

Case in point, the anxiety and depression and existential rumination was creeping up on me today slowly gnawing at my sanity and then I had a glass of wine and a beer and feel calm again--in fact, normal--normal like I used to be. But it scares me, this feeling that alcohol gives me... this peace-- I know I need to find it outside of alcohol..

The other thing is that this thing inside of me feels like it won't go away. If I can put it in another light, it is as though the structures of 'self' that were meant to be fortified at a young age and made strong were not, and as a result, in the face of the slightest trauma, I collapse again, a sort of psychological ground zero and I just become this conscious thing with memories and a 'self' but they are not longer attached to me. It sucks. I had one really bad episode 5 years ago where I was diagnosed with depersonalisation/derealisation/GAD/depression and I'm getting it again but no where near as intense, but the depression and anxiety can be pretty brutal. Somedays I have to walk from the split second I wake up till the evening. Other days I think that there is no hope and when I get those feelings I quickly get up and either go for a run or a walk because existentially the weight of those thoughts are unbearable. I would like to be human again. Or maybe have an appetite. Not perpetual nausea. I'd definitely settle for an appetite if there was a deal that could be made.

Its like there is a part of me inside that is turning off-depression is like a death that works its way within.

Its like the depression is this grim reaper and it knows I'm a failed human. Like I wasn't built correctly. Faulty-and this darkness is like a prebuilt failsafe mechanism you. Thats what I hate about this feeling, it feels external -it is unwanted. -the mind has this component and it is activated once it realised that the self has failed to take root and it comes to kill . It is always lurking. I feel like at thirty, I've failed to construct a stable self identity. That it keeps collapsing and I fall into the abyss of everything. Where there is nothing but consciousness and detachment-confusion about life and what I am supposed to be. Not sure what the 'I' is that is suffering-sometimes I am not even present-I can receive the world through my senses but it is as though no one is watching it. This fleshy weird existence that can express in language becomes something alien and unfamiliar to me. And then the anxiety. I have no control over it. People tell me to breathe-I fucking breathe- It is so hard. I do yoga every morning and exercise like a maniac. Once it gets going its like a fire, needs a tiny spark and before you know it its a raging inferno inside of you and you're getting burnt alive by it. And how am I meant to breathe? My instinct is to run or walk.

It's so funny how quickly things can go bad. Just four months ago I would of told you I was genuinely happy despite all of this. I had constructed a meaningful and safe existence in my twenties after my terminal mental illness from basically a child-and that construction was blown to bits by a few weeks of anxiety and one therapy session where something was triggered. Totally collapse you know. And now I'm not sure what I am doing. I'm doing yoga. Eating healthy. Taking supplements. Exercising everyday. Running. Yoga again. Pull ups. Drinking. Travelling. Eating In spite of the nausea. And yet nothing seems to change. I want to change. I don't want to die this slow spiritual death.

I just felt like saying these things. I know its not a coherent piece. These are just musings that I've jotted down after a relapse day. I remember a quote from a Tolstoy book-god gives the cross but he gives the strength to bear it. Hopefully that is true. Good luck to everyone in their private battles. X
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