Inner Voices

It’s been long enough that I don’t feel like I’ll ruin it if I bring it up now.

My inner voices have been beautifully silent lately.

It’s been about three weeks now.

These are not the same voices I have been mainly talking about.

These are different.

These are in my head.

In my thoughts.

They’re not the projected voices I hear.

These are the core layer of my voices I think.

A core hallucination, I guess.

These are ones that have mimicked me for years.

But they’re me at the same time.

They don’t sound projected or from afar.

These voices are what I would call my narrative.

They’ve been with me since just before I told my mom that I wanted to steal the family car and drive it into a tree, at age thirteen.

These are the voices that started all of this shit.

I don’t know what this is, to have these layers of voices, tones and spoken words, like I do.

These voices, the ones that I know are in my head, have been a problem, I know they have been.

I’ve talked about them to therapists before.

Psychiatrists too.

They’re the one that tell me to fuck off and die.

They tell me that I’m not worth it.

They create and emphasize my faults, every moment of every day.

I was always told my inner narrative was normal.

That’s regardless of how much they accuse and berate me.

These core and internal voices, I thought, were the same things everyone else went through and hears.

No wonder why I could never see through my darkness.

It’s a fucking mirror.

They crowd my mind with useless, degrading chatter.

They hate me.

Not me.

I don’t mind me.

Shit, I might even be starting to like me.

But the voices fucking hate me.

They’re so ingrained that I didn’t even know when some of them started to sound different.

When they started to sound outside of my head, ya know?

I don’t know if anyone can really hear what I’m saying here, but the quietness of these abusive voices has meant that for the first time in my life, I’m not hearing horrible phrases on a fucking remixed, continuous, overlapping cycle.

With the absence of these voices, I can think in a way that has never been possible for me before.

I didn’t even understand these voices were a part of my issues until recently, when they disappeared slowly.

I didn’t see these voices as being different from myself.

And I for sure did not think they would ever go away.

But then one day, just the other day, they just sorta, stopped.

I’m not saying they’ll stay away.

Or that they’re completely gone.

But the past few weeks now, there’s only been one, comforting voice.

One that is understanding and patient.

She cracks jokes and reminds me of other things, for perspective.

She sounds kind of like me.

Not gruff, or rude or loud.

But sincere and empathetic.

I’m starting to think that THIS is my actual inner voice.

This voice, this new one, is normal.

Everything that I had been hearing for so, so, so incredibly long just kinda, faded out.

I have said that I’ve noticed my rage subsiding.

It absolutely has, and I hope it stays that way.

I’m not grinding my teeth anymore. 

I’m not continually squeezing and contracting every muscle in fits of anger.

My self harm hasn’t even been a fleeting thought in the past two months.

I can’t tell you the last time I went two months without even thinking of self harming.

My inner dialogue is so much more calm right now.

She’s just there.

Not being intrusive or shouting.

She’s just aware and communicative.

I can’t emphasize enough how much finding the correct medication has helped me be at this point today.

How I have a new found adoration for whomever discovered antipsychotics.

I feel like I never understood what was happening, until it stopped.

This started so, so, long ago for me.

Before I even knew who I was, or what I stand for.

It’s a journey I would not wish on anyone. 

The voices took over before I even knew what was happening. 

I was so young.

They have been there for so long, that I just assumed I was doomed to sit and spin.

I’m forever grateful for finding the right medication.

And for being willing to do any of this.

I didn’t know I had it in me.

– Keren