Content Warning: Self Harm and Eating Disorder
the other day my therapist told me that i have a little monkey mind.
it’s always restless bouncing around never grounded and never listens. it comes from a chinese term 心猿. my mind jumps from thing to thing. nice chair. i should clean my desk. what am i going to wear today. how the fuck do magnets work. why does chicken look like that. i want to learn how to tailor suits. fingers are like little arms.
it’s never satisfied and always hunting for more.
she sends me a bunch of books to read about the monkey mind: how to reach zen. thoughts without a thinker. i smile and nod, saving the titles to a word doc. everything is alright. i got the guidance i need to solve all my problems. everything is good. i do all the little things i’m supposed to do and press all the right buttons like a good healthy functional person. nothing is ever wrong. it’s all so easy.
this charade collapses. i delete the word doc and open up wikipedia. today’s topic: childish gambino’s childhood. it’s fun entertaining and makes for great trivia performances. most importantly, it is stupid easy simple. there for me to just look and absorb. no thinking. no actions. i just do. that’s all that matters — doing. no worrying and no work. anything to distract this monkey mind.
i’ve tried to explain this to my therapist, but there’s always this impenetrable level i cant ever seem to overcome. the words are blocked. the thoughts disappear. i cant ever speak. i am stuck in this prison. it’s so frustrating. the thoughts bubble at the surface, taunting me, but somehow the words are never there. they slip through. my fingers are just not long enough. and it hurts. i want to talk. i want to explain. but i cant.
everyday is like this. pain. hurting. it hurts. i go through my little rituals. wake up, shower, brush my teeth, put on clothes, go get food. anything to distract this monkey mind and prevent it from taking over. because after all, why would i want to do that. everything is a-okay and we should never focus on bad things. my mind is just a silly little goofy self-sabotaging dipshit.
except it’s not. no matter how hard i try. how many tweets i like. how many hobbies i pick up. i cant ever rid myself of it. it’s always there lurking in the shadows. taunting me. beating me.
i cant outrun it because i am it.
i am my monkey mind and my monkey mind is me.
i wake up with cuts. even sleep cant stop the restlessness. my monkey mind maneuvers my hands. wringing them into my body. trying to feel just something to replace the thoughts. it never works. they still come. i wake up with blood-crusted nails, ashamed. i shower to clean myself of filth. there are cuts all over my arms from past nights. a couple of stupid texts and calls for my left arm. a rejected application for my right. i scrub my body with soap until my skin is raw. the gunk will go away, right? i’m better than this. i’ve changed. i know all the right things i’m supposed to do. all the right protocols. i’m smart.
but it doesn’t go away. no matter how hard i scrub, it’s still there. a sign reminding me. taunting me. the filth isn't on the outside. it’s on the inside. it is me. i am the filth that i hate so much. i haven’t changed. i cant.
i get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself. i look at myself in the mirror. a cut brandishes my nose. acne decorates my forehead. i laugh. the universe is funny. this is what i deserve. what else did i expect.
whatever. it’s time to get on with my day.
time to put on a mask. a smile. a grin. pep in my step. no one likes a downer! cheer up!
i walk into the dining hall. pancakes. my favorite! i exchange pleasantries. sit down. talk. be social! i love talking to people. they’re all so cool and interesting and amazing, just like me! they begin to shuffle away. an hour has passed. people get on with their lives.
my plate is untouched. i know i’m hungry. i should eat. i cant waste food. but my hand never moves. i cant eat. the fork is glued to the table. i’m weak. i cant lift it up.
the food taunts me. i picked out this food myself. i know i like it. i’ve eaten here before dozens of times. why isn’t this working.
the table is nearly empty. i’m being left behind, passed behind in life. forgotten. lost. cold. lonely. so i run. my monkey mind wins again.
i make up excuses. oh, the food is getting cold. i have tons of work to do. it’s going to compost anyways. i try to justify my actions and feign normalcy. i always lose. this is bad and i feel bad. why cant i do even the most basic of actions. i hate myself. what is wrong with me. why can’t i just be normal.
out of some compromise i pack it in a to-go box vowing to eat it later. this is a lie and i know it. i’m only delaying the inevitable to avoid responsibility. i carry around the box all day until it’s cold and dry. i hate this. the monkey mind wins again. it always does.
i can never beat this goddamn little monkey mind. there’s no way around that and it’s terrifying.
no amount of drugs, self-help, or therapy can change it. only i can. i have to learn to accept the monkey mind and not fight it because i’ll never win. there is no monkey mind to fight. there is only me.
but that’s okay
By Anonymous
