A Bad Place To Be 

There is nothing left. 

No more. It’s all gone. 

Not one thing left to force into me, on me, or even through me. The demonic forces are at it once again. The past 24 – 48 hours has been an exhausting attack on both my mind and body. I cannot ingest, inhale, stuff, sniff or purge any more. I am too weak to cry. As I lie here in the middle of our bed, my husband at work covering an overnight shift for a coworker, my mind is far too jumbled for me to even begin to think of trying to process everything that I have inflicted upon myself. 

But I know it’s safe to go to sleep now. There is nothing left in me that could possibly cause any damage. I’ve thrown it all up. My eyes have dried out. My nose is clear and has stopped burning. The room is not spinning as long as I keep my eyes closed. The list is longer but all details don’t need to be shared. 

This can only be described as a prime example of how serious and severely dangerous a relapse or a full blown bipolar episode can be. 

I am alive. 

I can see straight again. 

The nosebleed has stopped. 

The pain in my head that was severe enough to have left me curled up for 2 hours, crying, praying for God to either let me die or make it stop, has eased off.  

The only thing I am able to do now, at 3am, is to crawl in bed and try to find some comfort by losing myself in the darkness of this night and pray to God that I will wake tomorrow and find a glimmer of hope. 


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