The look behind those tired eyes

Chapter ten - Haunted by memories

Rookie Chandler

Consider my meltdowns a frequent occurrence. They come and go like the seasons throughout the years, except, they weren't seasonal, but daily. Sometimes monthly and sometimes weekly.

It was a battle I had been fighting for years on end. Whatever it was I was feeling seemed like a joke to me at first, seeming how any unsettling thing would make me laugh. Turns out that was very unstable of me.

The mood swings didn't just come and go, no. It was also my behaviour. It would rationally change, scaring Hillary and my mom. I wasn't aware about half of the things I had done or said. I wasn't aware on how anything my actions did caused hurt upon people. I was simply oblivious, if you would call it that.

Therapy was always an option, but off the market. I hated talking to people about my problems, or myself in that manner. When it came to my problems it also meant it was about me. So, no, no therapy for me.

Hillary picked up on my outrageous self, and told mom how I seemed like a different person each time something or someone happened.

For an example; My mom started seeing another guy a few years back, and he made the comment on how I am a moody teenager and that's how it just is with mood swings. It was like a switch inside of me suddenly flipped and all I saw was red. Black and red, at that.

I don't remember much at all when things happen. Mom described it as gruesome and horrifying. Apparently, I had lashed out on him and threw things at his head, saying stuff like 'did you ever lose a dad?! And, 'how about I show you what it's like!" When she told me about that, every single organ I had in my body did somersaults. That wasn't like me at all. When I told her I didn't remember, she told me that was considered blacking out. It took her a while to convince her I didn't actually remember, and Hillary screaming that it wasn't like me at all, to get my mom to understand.

I never found any coping mechanisms. I didn't know what I would be coping for.

Because you can't cope for being a mentally ill person.

And that's what I was; mentally ill in many ways. Some would argue that it was because my dad died that caused this, I would disagree and say it was when I started lashing out. I felt like this since I was a little kid, younger than twelve, younger than eight. Both times my dad died; emotionally one year and physically another.

Of course, I wasn't going to actually tell anyone my feelings. It was pointless, useless. Nobody listens to you when you're suffering in silence for so long, 'cause when you are suffering long term they learn to deal with it. Like an addict's habit to drugs; people deal with it rather than help out.

I wanted to scream at everyone who said it will pass 'cause I knew it never would. They weren't me. They couldn't know how I was possibly feeling. They couldn't know what I was dealing with on a regular, daily basis. How could they? They wouldn't want to know everything, anyway. It was a brutal place up in my head.

Eventually, my mood swings and behavioural problems were no longer the issue, but my hallucinations were.

I would hear voices telling me it's my fault from time to time. Familiar ones. Like my dad's. Other times it would be something completely different, like, the news reporter talking about the puppies at the adoption centre on Mave Street.

I can guarantee you that no News reporter would stand above your head to tell the world about puppies.

Nor would a dog...

Yep. I've had hallucinations of dogs walking like a human, eating like a human, and even talking like a human. One time, I saw one walking a human. I thought the world was ending so I approached the "dog" but really...it was actually a mother pushing a stroller.

The strange look I got for scolding a dog...that was actually a mother...

Poor woman probably thought I was scolding her for being a dog.