Misunderstood Insanity

By Nicho’lle

Being diagnosed with severe mental health issues, Nicho'lle writes in her diary to to cope with grief, self-harm, substance use, hyper sexuality and other negative behaviors. Through narratives, thoughts, poetry, songs and short stories, she leads her readers through the mind of what she believes is insanity and shows us how beautiful the mind can really be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664192591

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Nicho’lle.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/27/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

There She Goes Again

Another Day in the Life

My Abortion Story

May 25, 2013

Anarchist

Ketamine

With a Slash of the Wrist

The Sex Diaries

A Slippery Slope

Hell Invading

Light Up

I Miss You, and I Am Coping, Self-Harm

Withdraw

Untitled Thoughts

Trigger Warning

Day 3

Day 2

Day 1

Goodbye (For Now)

Game time

If You Love Yourself, Read This

Self-Care Ideas

I’m Coming Up

Beetlejuice

Changes

Bad Day

Self-Harm Behaviors Other Than Cutting You Didn’t Know Were Self-Harm

Common Emotions Triggering Self-Harm

These Are My Confessions

Gratitude

Give me a chance

Purge

Two-Faced

Zombie

A Binding Contract

All or Nothing

Shipwrecked

I Didn’t Know Her Like You Did remake of Brantley Gilbert’s You Don’t Know Her Like I Do

Womanism

The Dialectic

Gushing Glaciers

Anger in Tune with Mad World

Giovanni

Bondage

Memory

Seven-Word Story

Thought

Hear My Cry/Her Reply

Swim

ECT

White Walls

Last Call

Triple Homicide

Jump-Starting a Brain in ECT

An Open Letter to My Diagnosis

Open Letter to Christina Aguilera

Bad Choices for the Neighbor

THERE SHE GOES AGAIN

I tried to kill myself again. It took me this long to get these words on paper. I had to admit to myself the unfathomable. I tried to kill myself again.

I truly don’t mean to put myself in this position. I don’t mean to make my family panic as they let the words Nicho’lle is in the hospital again sink in. I don’t ever mean for it to hurt anybody, but I keep doing this. Over and over again.

How could I let myself get into that dark of a place? I know I don’t mean to hurt myself, but I keep doing it anyways. How could I feel so worthless and helpless that I would ever want to take foreign objects to my body, destroying it slowly cell by cell?

How could I want to poison myself with my own hand, swallowing my own despair with every extra medication my body tries to soak up? All I could think about was shutting it down from the inside out.

How could I feel so much, so suddenly? I need a person inside my mind with a Yield sign for my thoughts. A Caution, road construction ahead sign warning my thoughts from the behaviors they are about to delve deep into.

I don’t mean to feel this anxious. All I want to do is want to live. Why is it so hard to just allow myself to take up space? I am a tiny parasite feeding off other peoples thoughts, or at least what I think they are thinking, allowing it to affect my every move I make. What I eat. who I hang out with, what I think they want to say to me Kill yourself, the world would be better off.

I don’t mean to think these things. I don’t want to go places and have the automatic scene play in my head.

It is a bright, sunny day. The grass hasn’t looked greener since this time last year. Colors so vibrant. Little kids laughing in the background while their parents meet for a softball game. Everyone joking around and having a good time. Socializing.

There I sit alone in the car because I am too afraid to open the car door and open my mouth in fear of what will come out will reinforce the thoughts of being worthless to speak to.

A streetlight sits on the side of the road. I stare at it, hoping for it to put me out of my misery. To reach over to me and pull me on top of it. To take the gun in the back of the car I forgot was there and hold myself hostage. Of course, something dramatic; I have been dramatic all my life. To hold the gun up to my temple and pull the trigger, mumbling something about, Tell my family I love them. Tell them I am sorry for being that statistic that one out of three siblings will kill themselves after they have lost a parent to suicide.

I don’t mean to be dramatic. I don’t mean to cause a scene. Trust me, I want to make as little noise and cover as little dirt on this earth as possible. The best place for me resides six feet under. Not even, I don’t even deserve my rotting carcass to be present anywhere on this earth. Cremate me to ashes and get rid of me altogether.

I don’t mean to try to kill myself. I just want the second life I’m living inside of my head to end so I can do business with physical existence.

If you are suicidal and start formulating plans in your head, please reach out to someone. Text Connect to 741741.

Visit http://www.misunderstoodinsanity.com for posts that were published earlier from now. WordPress is a new concept for me. Stick with me here.

ANOTHER DAY IN THE LIFE

B eing stable is hard. Wake up early. Eat breakfast (make sure you get your protein, carbs, dairy, fruit, and fat). Take medication. Take a shower. Take the dogs out. Make lunch (this time substitute fruit for a vegetable). Go for another walk. Read. Eat dinner (hardest part of the day). Find something to do for the rest of the day until 9:00 p.m., then take meds again and go to bed early.

I haven’t worked in about two years. My mental state has kept me from being able to hold down a job. Being on disability is NOT fun. I get hardly any money to live off of, and I’m expected to find things to do to keep myself alive daily. I have a DBT workbook, which is like my full-time job, working on my own mind to get it back to a healthy state. Figure out and identify thought distortions. Replace them with coping statements and positive affirmations. The more you practice, the more ingrained in your head it will become. Write out communication problems, ’cause we all know I go from 0 to 100 in 0.5 seconds. Don’t interrupt people. Handle criticisms from others as well as the criticisms I have created running through my head. It is exhausting.

Falling down is the easy part. Anybody can do it. Getting up and brushing yourself off and taking that first step back into reality is what’s hard. I feel as though relapses are inevitable. My mood will plummet, I stop taking care of myself, I don’t eat or sleep, and the suicidal thoughts get stronger and more intrusive the deeper into the depression I fall. THIS IS THE HARD PART. I used to think the only way I could socialize was if I was intoxicated somehow. Didn’t care what substance, as long as I dissociated from myself and don’t have to listen to myself talk, then I could be around people.

Reviews for Misunderstood Insanity

[Lynsey Bradshaw · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I felt heard with my mental health! I love it