Never Free

Never Free

You expected hysteria. You wanted tears, anger, hysterics – anything but my calm disappointment. I needed to show you crazy in order for you to think that I wasn’t.

This might have been averted if only I understood the rules of engagement. Things would have been easier if I’d been able to act how you wanted, if only I could say the things you wanted to hear. I should have been able to, my whole life has been an act, showing the world what they wanted to see.

Truth is, I likely couldn’t have done it. We’re here because I decided I was done. I spent too many years pasting a smile on my face and speaking words of inspiration and hope. I was too exhausted to keep doing it; too exhausted to put my mask back on for you.

Over the years, I tried to feel inside what I was portraying on the outside. Therapy, medication, meditation, exercise – all offered a glimmer of hope at one time or another. You suggest these things now as though they will fix me. You won’t listen when I tell you they don’t work.

This didn’t transpire over a month or year, not even over a decade. It has been my constant companion. Sometimes worse, sometimes better, always there reminding me not to trust the good times, because they won’t last.

This wasn’t an emotional decision, it was practical. I am here because the hysteria is gone and all that exists is exhaustion. After fifty years, and eyeing fifty more with no hope for improvement, I have given it my best effort. You could have respected that I understand myself more than you do after fifteen minutes.

I explained that this wasn’t an impulsive decision. In fact, there was probably nothing I thought about more. I thought I was explaining myself in a way you could understand. I hadn’t needed for you agree with my decision. I had hoped you would listen and try to understand that because we didn’t agree it didn’t mean I was wrong and unable to make my own decisions.

You kept pushing, poking and prodding to find the hysteria. It was like a game of Hide-and-Seek, only I wasn’t playing. You were so sure there was something I wasn’t telling you, the key to opening the box of emotions you so wanted to find. You looked in the usual places – family, relationships, job, money – but found nothing. You kept going, thinking I would grow tired and reveal myself. I didn’t and the game quickly turned to Capture the Flag.

No longer looking for where I hurt, you focused on destroying everything standing in your way. Your questions now statements, telling me what I had done wrong and how very bad it was. Your voice cold, full of accusations and judgment. You want a confession. I feared you wouldn’t stop until I admit my wrong doing and show remorse. but the only remorse I feel is for the failure of my attempt.

Over and over, you tried to get me to admit my crime but I am too tired and no longer wanted to talk. All I wanted was sleep. You decided that this was further evidence of my instability. The less I said, the more you decided that I could not be trusted. I spoke my truth and my honestly led to my incarceration.

You don’t want to understand. Your training told you what I had done was wrong, suicide is always an irrational act. Someone who does not want to live is sick. Too sick to know that they are sick. Too sick to be able to make their own decisions. You would need to make my decisions for me until I am no longer sick.

Until I learn how to behave, I would be punished – removed from society – locked away until you decide I understand my crime and have been rehabilitated. You tell me this isn’t a punishment, you are helping me. This is the kind of help I need, I am too sick to be part of deciding my treatment plan.

You lock me away. You medicate me and let me out into the small caged area to see the sun every couple of hours. You watch me, evaluate me without ever having any meaningful conversation or provide any of the support the notes on my file indicate I need.

You tell me that you know I am holding something back. There has to be a reason why I did what I did and you can’t help me until I tell you what it is. I fear I will never be free because there is no one thing, and nothing I haven’t already tried to tell you.

I quit trying to explain, it only seems to make you more frustrated. You accuse me of trying to treat myself and seem offended I don’t immediately take your advice. You tell me I’m not listening and that I won’t get better until I do as you say. You send me back to think about what I have done and promise to see me again in a few days.

I try to tell you what you want to hear and give up trying to get you to understand. I try to behave. You seem happy with my new behaviour but you still won’t let me go. You tell me to be patient. You say it will take time for the pills to work. You offer no solution other than time, medication and incarceration. You tell me I need to stop questioning you, you know best and it is still not time to talk about me going home.

Then, without warning, I am released. There is a paper to sign, prescription to fill and appointments to attend. You hope that I will comply but I am no longer required to do anything. I go from not being able to be trusted to being free – not because my behaviour has changed but because your circumstances have.

You needed the bed. When you had a free bed, I couldn’t be trusted. Now that there is someone sicker than me, I no longer need to be locked up.

I go to the appointments you set up because I fear being locked up again. You wonder why I won’t tell you how I’m feeling, why I am so guarded. You ask me if I will reach out for help and are disappointed when I say no. Your help isn’t helpful, your help is now my trauma.

Because of your help I will never feel free.

You tell me I am free, that I can do as I wish. You tell me I can trust you, that you aren’t judging what I say. I still fear that if I say the wrong thing you will send me back.
I will never feel safe again. I will never be free because I am only ever as free as you decide I can be.

I have done all that you have asked and my thoughts have not changed. My wishes have not changed but I will keep going for fear of what will happen if I don’t.