由卡拉佩特

Kara_Petrovic_Profile

母亲按住我,双手锁住我的手腕,我尖叫着,痛苦地扭动着. It is midnight, or sometime after. The fluorescent lights of my room feel too bright, 它们灼伤了我的皮肤, 诅咒与超敏反应. 我可以听到我的母亲对我咕咕,轻轻地耳语,是时候停止. 浑身是冷汗,皮肤光滑,头发粘在额头上. 这是我人生最低谷的快照,这种情况发生的频率比我愿意承认的要高. 这是一种恐慌症,或者类似的症状,有时候我分辨不出来. 然而,, 与不屈的耐心, 我母亲听到了我的尖叫声,然后365安卓官方app下载就像往常一样又唱又跳:我的手抓着我的皮肤,好像我在挖金子, and her hands are petting my head, snaking their way around my body to make me still.

My mother never really understood mental illness, not when it first crept into my bed and made itself a home. She thought I was attention-seeking, the youngest child tired of raising their voice just to be heard, that this was the newest of my attempts to gain her affection. My mother thought she could shake it out of me, 如果她抓住我的肩膀足够多次,或者狠狠地扇我耳光,我就会振作起来,成为她想象中的那个孩子.

我今年22岁, and I have a cornucopia of diagnoses, all of which seem to be trying to outdo the other. In my youth, I was a lost soul — to put it kindly. 我心中有火在我里面烧起,有鬼跟随我的脚步。我心中有死亡的意念.
如果死亡是一个人, with sickly grey skin and bones for fingers, he followed me throughout my adolescence, before I even knew how to correctly spell suicide. 12岁时, 我会给母亲写纸条,放在她卧室的门口, apologizing for being the way that I was, stating I knew she would be better off if I were dead.

我会看着她读这些笔记,藏在房子的柱子后面. With the scoff of a laugh accompanied by a quick roll of her eyes, her staple response to my behavior, she would crumple the paper up. 对她来说,这是一种寻求关注的呼声,我想在某种程度上确实如此. 这也是一种求助,一种她会让我等上几年才能收到的求助.
Meanwhile, I played surgeon with myself. 我似乎相信,如果我割得足够深,我就能找到疾病的根源,并把它从我的皮肤上去除. 因为我必须自己清除它,我必须在没有方向感的情况下航行. I would lock myself in my room and map out the corners of my brain, 在我的潜意识深处寻找,试图找出我痛苦的原因. 在一元店,我会买剃须刀,把它们带回家,然后把安全栅栏拆开. I would mark up my arms, my legs, my stomach. 一开始我做了实验, 我的皮肤上全是x, but it quickly became methodical lines and, 每一个新的会话, I challenged myself to dig even deeper.

A therapist once told me that the pain I carry is liquid gold, 每次我凝视着我的痛苦,试着去发现其中的美,它就会填补我内心的裂缝,创造出一件新的艺术作品, 在它的曲线和曲折中, the knots in my forearms and the scars on my body. 我看到的都是裂缝. White lines that look nothing like gold. I trace my fingertips along the hypertrophic scars and, 突然, I am engulfed in loneliness and vulnerability. Though I want nothing more than to hold on with an iron fist, I let go of the abyss and tell myself the wounds have healed. 然而, they burn each time I see someone trying not to stare.

我的母亲相信痛苦是可以消除的,好像我的痛苦和我应该分开. My mother says happiness is a choice. I promise I am trying to choose happiness every day, but maybe the words stick in my throat, 也许我已经习惯了优于她的失望,我再也不能分辨出区别.

我今年15岁,患有一种不知名的疾病已经三年了. 2011年11月,我和姐姐正在布置圣诞树. My parents are still together, out for the evening at a concert, desperately hoping this date night will save their marriage. 在晚上的某个时刻,我的肺和心脏在我的胸部骤然下降,我的大脑重复着一个轨道. 我溜进父母的卧室,找到了几周前偶然发现的我父亲的安眠药. I read the label with care, noting all the warnings. “不要操作机器. 带着食物. 不要和酒一起喝.”

不要和酒一起喝.

不知不觉,我就站在酒柜前,手里拿着26粒药丸. 我浏览了一下我的选择,最后选择了酒精含量最高的一种:龙舌兰酒. I down the pills, chase them with the tequila, in seconds. 酒精灼烧着我的喉咙,我的身体扭曲着抗议,当酒精进入我的胃时,我颤抖着. 在这一刻,什么也没有发生.

I walk upstairs into my bedroom. I pick out the outfit I would like to be found in: I change my shirt. I put one leg into my favorite pair of jeans.
When I wake up, I’m in the hospital. 我的嘴是黑色的,上面覆盖着木炭,我的胸口有轻微的烧伤痕迹. My mother sits across the room from me. 她的拇指指甲在嘴里. 她一直在哭,但当她意识到我醒了时,她的脸变得僵硬起来. I can hardly hear anything; the world is muted. She draws near and kneels by my bed. Her brown eyes I inherited are cold. “听着,”她说,“会有一个精神病医生来看你. 你必须听我说. 你必须撒谎. 你不可以讲真话. If you do, you will be hospitalized and this will ruin your life.”

毁了我的生活.

She coaches me, over and over, on the things I have to say. I stand up groggily and stumble towards the bathroom. She follows me, stands behind me, watching as I wash my face. She follows me back into the room, 说, “这是个错误, 一场事故, you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“这不是意外,”我说,这句话从我的喉咙里脱口而出,我皱起了眉头.

“别傻了. 你必须告诉心理医生,‘不,我没有这种行为的历史.’”

第二天精神病医生来看我的时候,我说:“我犯了一个错误. 这是个意外. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

I answer, “No, I don’t have a history of this type of behavior.”

当我24小时结束的时候, 我发布的, 第二天我去上学,就好像我两天前还没死一样.
This becomes a standard play for us. The following year I make the same attempt. I steal painkillers, head to the liquor cabinet, swallow tequila. Again, I wake up in the hospital and follow the same script. 当它再次发生时, 一次又一次, 一次又一次, we eventually manage to avoid going to the hospital, and it is my mother’s turn to play doctor. As she wraps gauze around my wrists when I am 17 years old, 她的嘴唇是一条坚硬的线条,尽管她脸上的其他部分随着岁月的流逝变得柔和起来, I note her expertise: it had always been second-nature to her, 她治愈了我身体上的创伤,却无法治愈我心灵上的创伤.
在这个过程中,没有太多的注意或声明,一切都改变了. I have moved out and am living an hour’s drive away. We see each other on weekends. 有些周末我跳过. I ignore my mother’s messages, 她的电话, 我做得越多, the more they increase in frequency. No longer does she look at me with disdain. 在这次访问中,我19岁,坐在门廊上,和妈妈一起抽着烟. Even when we are the same, both smokers, we are different. She smokes thin sticks, I smoke 100s.

她问:“你好吗??”

I say, “Better than I have in years.”

I look toward the setting sun as she flinches. 我弹开香烟. 谈话气氛紧张, 痛苦的, and I’m checking my phone at five-minute intervals; waiting for when I can take my train to a home that is no longer with her. 她给我寄爱心包裹, 告诉我不要太担心, 亲吻了我的额头, 我意识到这是这么多年来她对我的关注最多的一次. Except now, I think, I no longer need it. I am independent, grown, away from her. I am eating healthy, sleeping well, saving money. For all intents and purposes, I am well and stable.
但我并没有痊愈.
疾病的回报.

I find myself coming home more and more. 我母亲对此表示欢迎. We have a family dinner every Sunday, 就365安卓官方app下载两个人, and I can see the happiness etched into her face. I feel her warmth for the first time in years, 当我要回家的时候,我突然开始厌恶起来.

At the end of the year, I move back home and nestle myself into her. 她叫我宝贝,提醒我世界不是我的敌人,我的心也不是. I realize, then, that finally: neither is she.

我母亲从不理解精神疾病,但她渐渐接受了我. 365安卓官方app下载曾经平行生活,在同一个方向上旅行,从来没有接触过. 在我第一次皮肤裂开之后的几年里,我学会了接受自己的思想. 我的阴暗面在我身上留下了我用金子填满的阴影的痕迹. My body is a work of art I cherish, each mark a reminder not of my lowest, 而是我幸存下来的东西. I fell out of love with my own melancholy. In ways unclear to me, my mother did the same.


我母亲按住了我. 几分钟后,我的呼吸平稳了,脸上的泪水也擦干了.

That night, we sleep together, cocooned around each other and still.


卡拉佩特今年23岁,目前住在安大略省的多伦多. 他们经历过三次创伤,并患有各种心理健康障碍. They have been writing poetry since they were 8 years old. In 2017, they self-published a collection titled beyond rock bottom. Their poetry has been previously published by CONKER magazine. 2018年,他们被选为多伦多新兴作家系列的读者. 他们目前还在与一位住在贝尔维尔的合著者一起写一本小说, 新泽西. 费城在他们心中有着特殊的地位,因为他们的父亲和最小的妹妹住在那里. They identify as genderfluid and pansexual.