Silencing negativity

 It was the last time I heard her voice.

It was June of 2014. I was six months into becoming financially independent and I remember being on the cusp of losing everything. My phone was about to be disconnected, I had barely enough cash to make rent for the next month and bills were piling on.

A job was on its way — I was hired to work at a fast food restaurant, but wasn’t starting until the next month.

The shallow amount of money I accumulated at my last job nearly dissipated. And the job wasn’t coming quick enough.

So, in a moment of weakness, I asked for help — and paid for it.

During the call I apologized for “being a dick” even though I felt I was in the right the entire time. If I were to survive, I had to put my pride behind me and ask for help.

So I did. I apologized for becoming financially independent.

No matter what the voice in your head tells you, it’s important to not let itdefine who you are.

I said I could have handled the situation better, that I was stubborn and didn’t know she was trying to help me.The result was 30 minutes of mental abuse that left my brain scarred. I was called an alcoholic and an asshole, among other hurtful things. That I would never live up to anything and I wouldn’t last a month being financially on my own, and here I was calling her. That I was probably working some fast food joint trying to make ends meet.

That I wasn’t considered to be her son anymore and that I was a failure.

Finally, after asking what my motivations were, I told her to “have a good night” and I hung up the phone. In retrospect, she needed that. She needed that closure to get everything off her chest for the six months since our last confrontation.

But the repercussions that occurred afterwards — the counselling sessions, the psychiatrist appointment, the diagnosis, left scars that haven’t healed, even a year and a half later.They say time heals everything, but I’m still waiting.

I feel like I’m split into two versions — the logical, more adjusted side that can see through the illusions, and the irrational, drastic side jumping from both extremes and heightening my emotions to believe it’s either one side or the other. Very happy versus very sad without much in between.

You either love the people in your life or you absolutely despise them — it flips like a light switch. I can’t help but watch when my mind and I come together as one when it believes something so much that it becomes real. It’s overwhelming, to say the least. Fighting with mental health is like waging a war on yourself that never ends and has no survivors. There are only small victories and adjustments while the enemy finds out what works versus what makes it worse. I jump from one extreme to the other in a snap of a finger in an attempt to control my emotions. I struggle to adapt and silence the voice that tells me everything I shouldn’t believe.

For me, it’s a constant battle between reality and fantasy. A battle that requires seeing through the smoke and mirrors to deter the voice on the other end speaking to my shattered self-esteem.

The voice that came as a result of all the inflicted scars. The voice that resonates loudly in times of depression or when I’m overwhelmed.

No matter what the voice in your head tells you, it’s important to not let it define who you are. It comes in many forms, and blocking the voice is a process that requires mental strength and resillience to relinquish. Some can rid of it completely, while others resort to dealing with it by trying to quiet its whispers.The voice in my head made a home and never left. The voice that constantly tells me I’m never going to live up to anything and that I should give up.

The voice that misdirects me and constantly tells me I’m a failure.

It’s the voice on the other end of the line.

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