When is it a time to realize there is no escape? Is it when you think you're healed, and you're okay? When you find yourself looking at the sky on a perfect day and can breath for the first time in too long.
Or is it when you realize that you cannot fake being happy all the time? Even on your best days, where you hear what you've been hoping to for so long. You just can't help feel helplessness pull at the back of your being. When you hear the content purring of a couple cats on your bed.
I can tell you when you realize this.. never. Because you never think that there could be any escape to this hell. Where you think you're doing so much better, and you think that the one person who understands you will understand. You may be doing better, but you will never be healed. They can never understand that you cannot fix this with a detox, good day, or great night's sleep. It's not just the worry of the past repeating itself. It's knowing that not all of your demons will be put down. You can look at your scars and know that you can never sink that low again, because you will not resurface for a third time. You can look in the mirror and know that even though they have been the reason you even eat, and keep it down, you will always hate the way you look. You know that when you look in the mirror, you'll see what you think you see, even at 95 pounds. You will know that at night, and even during the day, you will have the overwhelming urge to give into the part that feels like sobbing uncontrollably. Some days, when you fight with them, you'll give in, and embrace the anxiety attacks because you may not feel better afterward, but it's better than knowing it's ready to break through already.
There is no escape, and that's where your anxiety comes from. You never feel in control of yourself. but there is no one else trying to take over. This isn't a science fiction book. You could only wish, because there would be an actual explanation other than an overwhelming sense of fear. You can try to squash it, and you can try to tell yourself that you're healed. But you always feel it lingering, like a dark cloud. You'll keep it a secret. It is your dirty little secret, not just because society calls you unstable or crazy because of it, but because you feel dirty, and incomplete knowing that this is how you feel.
It may not be all the time. You can cry for something beautiful, or something lost. But the pain and darkness is always there. There is always the shadowy figure, beckoning to show you something old and something new. Simply waiting to pull on a loose string that you have; waiting to unravel you before you even know what's going on. You can feel lighter than air, then without warning, you crash into the Earth's surface. And nothing feels worse. You would rather feel nothing, but because you do, you become silent. as not to set off any suspicion. But it does, and there could be nothing wrong, and you're just having an off day. But your silence is known to be an unrelenting cry; not for help, not for acknowledgement, and not for grieving, but simply a cry.
There will be never a place to escape this, and never a place to reside forever. It will always be lurking, and always will have waiting. After all; misery loves company.
