War inside my head

I use the term war inside my head to explain what goes on inside my mind most days. We hear the word manic a lot but not many people actually know what its actually like to experience. A misconception is that the mania is a massive high and that the person is 'extra happy'. In my head though, this isn't always the case. The racing mind is still there. The erratic thoughts. The invincibility. The danger.

Last year I had spent a week on Groote Island off the coast of Darwin, working in a mining community running workshops. It was a long week and I could feel myself slipping mentally the whole time. I was booked on the early flight on my day to go home, but the night before the flights all started to get cancelled / moved and it left me sitting at the airport ( I say that lightly as the airport there is a shed ) crying waiting to see how and when I would get home. It took me a whole day and 4 flights to get home. I decided to start writing down what was going through my head on that last flight so that I could remember it. I never intended to put it out into the world... but here goes. Some of it still doesn't make sense to me. I even left some questionable spelling in there for you.

My feet are slow. They drag. I’ve stubbed my toe a couple times today. Maybe it’s my bodies way of letting me know I still feel something.

I sometimes have to question if this is real. am I really living this life now. I always wanted more from my life but to think that I am actually doing and living something that truly excites and fulfills me is mind blowing. Am I a fraud because I enjoy it ? The experiences I have been so blessed to have. The people that I have met, the stories that for some reason people have been so open to share with me... why ? I feel like a fraud. I wish dad was still here to see what I’m doing. I miss him. Every day. I worry if I can make this a ‘living’ ... I worry if this will end tomorrow. I worry. I worry. It’s hard to do things. Fucking hard. What’s everyone looking at. Music calms me down. Hard fucking music. Real music. I know I’m not the only one but right now yeah I fucking am. My eyes hurt to be open but they are wide. A laugh and a cry are the same emotion. The harder the music the more at ease I feel. The last couple of hours I didn’t have earphones but thank St Joe strummer I do now and why has that calmed me down??? Why do the words of some dude I’ve never met resonate still much ? Frank carter singing ‘there’s a devil inside of me’ means more than my wife asking how I’m going... it comforts me...???? There’s a devil inside of me, and I don’t know how long he’s staying... why won’t my leg stop shaking. Why am I smiling like joker. Shoes are off. Haven’t worn socks all day. It’s been a while but this feels comfortable like I miss it. Thank god for music and the thought that soon I’ll be with them. Funny that I’m now thinking about my friends and not that they will think different but they will think I’m making it up. Why is my nose running ? 47 people trained in MHFA this week... not one person asked how I’m going. Is that my fault ? I think it is. Am I so good at portraying an image that I’m good that eventhing here now makes sense. My fingers hurt. So do my shoulders. Wish this music would get harder. Maybe wish we would crash to make things easier. On who ? I’d prob still wear it heavy. Carpet on my feet feels good. I’m the volume in your fucked up teenage band... am I maybe trying to look to far into myself when I should just take things for what they are... or is that just me...no one around me knows any different... no one. War inside my head. Sometimes it’s acoustic songs that soothe me, some times guitar, bass and drums. But the thought of those I like brings me back... Garry Clark Jnr.. our love... wow... the first verse... fuck. I feel bad / sorry for the bird sitting next to me on this flight. But is someone she is close to thinking what I think. ?? What if I flipped out on this flight because I fucking feel like doing it... Raised fist is playing. Thank god. I can hardly type because I’m now drunk because it’s the only way I know how to deal. Drink and punk rock. Wish this plane would land so I could get off. But sometimes a familiar voice of a band you love makes a difference. Sometimes it’s acoustic, sometimes it’s the hardest music I can find. It’s hard being cooped on a Plane. Am I in Sydney? Thank god for music. A guy just walked across my path and he was an enemy. Why. My pants keep falling off because I forgot to put a belt on. Story of my life. This is fucking exhausting.

My head feels heavy. Like it’s a weight on my shoulders. An extra weight. An extra weight that I don’t need or want.

My neck hurts. It’s tight. I can still feel the tightness around it. I guess it wasn’t tight enough last night.