Inside the mind of a marionette before she cut herself free.

*Disclaimer* I am not writing this blog for myself- I don’t need to vent, I don’t need to express emotions and I don’t need to whine about some boy- writing these things triggers me and brings back PTSD symptoms- it doesn’t benefit me at all other than letting me help other survivors relate to someone and bring awareness to those who can’t relate. I am writing this blog solely to help others and raise awareness about mental health.  

What it’s like to have a monster in your head, written in the midst of some of the worst PTSD symptoms that I had (unedited).

I scream at him silently. I scream as loud as I can at my head, in my head, but nobody hears. He tortures me every day. I don’t think people can see him; my eyes glaze over and I make myself go numb when he comes out from his hiding place in my head. Sounds fade away to a background garble. My throat tightens and tries to suffocate me. My own thoughts curl up into a ball and hide in the corner of my head, rocking back and forth in an attempt to comfort themselves when he comes out to terrorize them.

The monster puts thoughts in my head. I’m driving a car but the car is being controlled remotely. I swerve the wheel to change the course but the car doesn’t change lanes. It goes faster and faster. The thoughts come at the car like huge billboards directly atop an interstate. I’m being kidnapped. The monster makes it look like I’m driving the car. He forces a smile to appear on my face. I’ve been drugged so that my body and mind are controlled by this monster but I can see it all happening and I can’t look away. I’m forced to sit and pretend I’m driving the car so that when other people see me, they don’t suspect anything.

I have thoughts that I’ve never thought about- unprompted, unwanted, merciless thoughts. I scream at them to stop being played in my head. I scream at the monster and tell him that he’s not real. I yell that I’m in control and that these thoughts aren’t my own but the movies keep playing over my eyes. My life, my thoughts, my vision fade to the background while these unwanted thoughts become the foreground. Everyone leaves. Everyone leaves because of me. I’m going to die. My friends are going to die. My family is going to die. My boyfriend is leaving me. My boyfriend is going to die. I have cancer. I’m worth nothing. I’m promiscuous and abused. My mom has cancer. My boyfriend hates me. My dad didn’t want me. I’m going to be cheated on by my boyfriend. I’m alone. The world is ending. I’m alone. My boyfriend is leaving and never coming back. I’m only worth what I can accomplish. I haven’t accomplished anything. I want to die. I don’t want to live. I’m a burden to everyone. I’m alone. I deserve to be alone. Thoughts play out as scenarios that I’m forced to watch play out on the backs of my eyelids while I’m walking to work, while I’m trying to study, while I’m trying to spend time with friends. I come up with reasons to believe that these aren’t true, that they won’t happen. My brain understands this but I have to watch them over and over again. Even if they aren’t real now, won’t they seem real after watching them over and over again? They are real.

I’m alone even when I’m surrounded by people. I’m alone with the monster who tries to hurt me. He does hurt me. He hits me and I’m paralyzed with fear. When I try to fight back, I’m beaten into submission. I want to be alone so that nobody sees him or me.

I have Stockholm syndrome. I protect the monster from other people and tell everyone that I’m happy, that I love myself, that I am great.

I’m in an abusive relationship. I defend him and blame myself for doing the damage that he does to me every day. I tell other people that I hit myself and that I deserved it. I tell other people I tripped and fell down the stairs- that’s why my arm is broken. I deserved that too. I tell them that I have a cat who doesn’t like baths- that’s why there are scratches and cuts on my body. I deserved it. I deserve it- at least I think I deserve it. My monster has told me I do so many times, I’m not sure where his thoughts end and mine begin.

I watch Netflix so that my eyes stay open and I can’t see the movies playing on my eyelids. I listen to music. I listen to books on tape. I read books. I work. I come up with other tasks when I don’t have work. I do things that hurt more than the thoughts in my head. I run until I collapse. I get eating disorders. I study until I go insane. I constantly move and break down my body physically and mentally so that I can focus on something outside of my head and so my body is too weak to feed the monster. If he gets weakened from starving, maybe he won’t be able to control me. Maybe he’ll pass out from hunger and I’ll be free for a little bit. Maybe he’ll die and I’ll be free. But I break eventually. I eat. I take a break from studying. I stop moving. I stop listening to music. I stop watching Netflix. I break my attempt at staging a coup. He gets fed and gets stronger. If I could only have gone a little longer without eating.

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