Those Who Live in Glass Houses

I can see the world around me. The trees, the lakes, the beautiful snow. I can see the children playing, laughing and so. I can see the couples hand in hand, the snow covered beach sand. I can see the beautiful houses sitting a row, I can see the wildlife such as a doe. Most of all I can see happiness and it makes me weep. You see I live in this glass house where I can see it all but I cannot experience it. I feel torture and anguish, suffering and torment. I can even see life in front of me. My school, work, volunteer, friends, family, boyfriend. I am living in it, but only the exterior me. The interior I remains in a glass house wondering when she will see the day of light. Wondering when she will see happiness. Wondering when the pain will be lifted from her shoulders. 

Life lately has been more than difficult. I’ve had to live a life I can barely function in. I’ve been to the hospital twice and even they couldn’t help me. Just prescribe some more pills and I’m on my way. I always call myself the middle man. I’m not well enough for society but I’m not sick enough for institutionalization. And it’s frustrating. I need help too. The suicidal ideation has been difficult to deal with and the constant pessimistic attitude with a lethargic I don’t care is eating me up on the inside. Each day that I live with these thoughts, is another day I won’t get back. 

I was a happy go lucky kid. I had 3 sisters so I always had someone to play with. My parents were and are happily married so that was never a problem. But somehow along the way I grew up troubled. Every professional I’ve ever spoken with has questioned my childhood and whether or not I ever had any traumas. I always reply “One day I woke up and I was bipolar and the rest is history.” And it’s true, all of a sudden I stopped sleeping, I spoke really fast, I spent a lot of money, I was doing reckless things without foreseeing consequences, I had sexual indiscretions, I was out of control. That was the part I liked though. I loved being the wild one, the out of controllable, unpredictable Ashley. But now when I look back, it terrifies me. To imagine how dangerous of situations I put myself in. 

The best part about living in the glass house? The walls can be broken by people throwing stones. And I have had a pouring of outreach of friends and family throwing stones at those very walls. I currently still sit inside with one thick wall in front, but with time, patience and therapy I shall break free from that glass wall. And when I get out of my glass house, there will be no looking back. It will be onwards with this amazing life that I have and that I need to enjoy before I lose it. 

If you ever find yourself in a glass house, just remember, glass can be broken. And it’s temporary not permanent. 

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