Silence

Starting to recover from this episode of Detachment. Although I use the word recover lightly. What I am dreading is when I start to readjust back to reality. But what if I just stayed detached? I don’t like how I am constructed psychologically. My thoughts operate on their own volition, flooding me with either multiple subjects or it fixates on a singular point in my memory. It affects many aspects of my life. Professionally, socially, interpersonally. I can be a burden for people who want to be close to me, that’s probably what stings the most.

Doesn’t feel like this will last through the night. Thoughts are starting to pick up speed and thought processes are being interrupted by other intrusive ones. Some of which are making me drift slightly back into detachment. I’ve already had to pull myself back to this keypad to continue several times in the last hour.

Some time later…

Readjusting isn’t within my control. At least not without going to extremes, which are obviously avoided. Gradually, the thoughts that constantly linger start to return. Away goes the silence and the stillness and back into the fold we go; the emotions that were suddenly dropped creep their way back in and I’m filled with absolute dread that it will not be long before I will be stuck in another whirlwind trying my best to hold myself together. I’m deathly wanting to resort to the extremes to go back to detachment. But doing so could spell consequences I’m not sure I could handle.

In theory, to initiate Detachment would require me to do near complete isolation. It would require me to go dark and become nonexistent to the world. I would need to keep my text responses vague, my phone calls short, and my interactions dry. I wouldn’t join the social outings or the nights out, nor the home parties or the friendly get togethers. It would just be me. Floating in my own youniverse. Much like Shadow Moon in American Gods. Spoiler alert, he gets to choose his own afterlife and decides on floating in an endless void; no light, no pain, no happiness, nothing. Just nothing. If I had the ability to choose my own version of heaven or hell or paradise or whatever you want to call it, that’d be the one.
Alone. Unable to feel, unable to hurt, unable to hope, unable to be disappointed, unable to love, unable to hate. I could spend eternity there.

I find it comfortable when it’s just me left alone in my mind. Free to sort through all the mental archives with impartial feeling. That’s what I enjoy most of the Detachment. I can examine and translate my own thoughts; specifically the delusions, traumatic events, and what I feel towards things and people. During this time, I look at it all with impartial eyes due to being disconnected from it. I understand what causes delusions, how I respond to them, and how they are making me feel. I just wish I knew where to balance the two states of mind.

More time later…

Jealously. I want what other people have. A sense of security. It’s a shitty thing to admit, but I feel unsettled seeing other people showing affection. Why? I should be happy for everyone around me being happy, but I’m not. It’s stupid. It’s selfish. It makes me want to retreat. This is why readjusting sucks. Simply being aware that you have problems is worrisome, feeling those problems settle in and slowly increase their grasp around your throat is another downfall in itself. Your brain starts to hurt because those emotions that have been repressed are suddenly back and ready to cause all the problems again. Reality settles back in. It’s nothing like what you want it to be, and this dream you deeply hope isn’t real suddenly feels like a slow burning hell.