I jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Lucid dreaming, my usual coping mechanism, had failed me this time. The dream wasn't vivid, but it left me deeply unsettled. It wasn't a nightmare either, something more disturbing, outside of my control.
Years of mental abuse and alcohol use had taken their toll. I knew my subconscious was damaged, perhaps beyond repair. Yet, I clung to hope, determined to salvage what I could for a functional life.
Calming down, I recollected the dream. It felt less scary now, replaced by a sense of desperation within it. I wondered why.
My warped logic, a product of years of mental abuse, had led me to believe alcohol was the answer. Therapy had been a revelation, exposing the source of my struggles.
My life had been a distorted reality, built on delusions to shield me from harsh criticism and unfulfilled dreams.
Initially, I was surprised at my ability to function. Despite emotional detachment, my sharp, albeit cold, logic allowed me to navigate social situations, even manipulate them. Loneliness, my vulnerability, made me susceptible to manipulation in exchange for companionship.
The true awakening came later. I discovered a unique ability – a visual perception of my moods, like colors shifting in water. I could track their transitions, yet controlling them remained a challenge.
I understood my moods, their triggers, and their impermanence, yet a disconnect remained. I couldn't simply switch emotions, leading me to cognitive behavioral therapy, despite the therapist's vague diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder Type 2.
Rewiring my mind for a firm grasp on reality was an uphill battle. Perhaps my damaged brain circuits struggled to connect emotions to my clear perceptions.
My friend Brah offered another perspective: the inherent need for connection, despite its messiness and uncertainty. Even with baggage, relationships offered comfort, explaining why most people seek them, with asexuality being the exception.
Maybe, just maybe, this underlying need for connection was my true illness, and the disturbing dream, a mere symptom.
No comments:
Post a Comment