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Mental Millennial - Part 1

The progressive journey of a MIM (Mentally Ill Millenial)

By Tim BoxerPublished about a month ago 3 min read
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Mental Millennial - Part 1
Photo by Stormseeker on Unsplash

Part 1

I sat down and a mental brick wall descended right in front of my double display monitors on my desk. I'd just had another excruciating setback I just couldn't override with mental gymnastics.

There's nothing left in me to just be positive.

No-one else in the office today, thank God.

My senses heightened and my vision tunneled. I need to get out.

A choice was suddenly clear: choose utter numbness and simply walk out or embrace a flood of uncontrollable sobbing, and then walk out. But I had to do one with absolute commitment. Clear as day.

I chose numb.

I stood up and quietly stripped all my personal items from my desk. I opened the drawers and slid the papers into the recycling. I took my ID badge from its case and considered snapping it but that seemed too far.

Now for the visionary statements I'd boldly strapped to the wall. I ripped them off and threw them into the trash. Keys off my desk. Mug hidden away in a drawer.

Notes for upcoming meetings that day - trashed. Notes from the last week of work - trashed.

I walked back through the office glancing around for anything connected to me. I removed it all. Post-it notes. Scissors. A thank you card. A personal receipt.

I then walked through the whole building saying a Victorian goodbye: efficient and emotionless.

I'm gone.

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Steering wheel in both hands, hard stare at the road ahead, my body involuntarily switches to option two.

I start shaking, panting fast and I feel a horrible mixture of panic and deep sadness forcing through my stomach into my chest and throat. I try to shout it off but there are mandatory sobs I can't control and I don't fully know why, but I feel so angry. So let down.

I grip the wheel so hard I'm not sure it is safe for me to drive but no-one is here to help so I've got to keep going. I've must get home under my own steam and get to my bedroom to let out everything inside.

My energy dissolves and everything seems pointless: All my effort, attention to detail and pursuit of brilliance, vapourised in a moment.

What a disgusting waste.

Back home, I pull myself together by taking a deep breath and holding it for as long as possible. I need to message two people to explain why I have disappeared from work. I do that and feel some relief.

I now think of the mounting consequences that lie ahead and in a moment of clarity register what is happening to me.

I am having a mental breakdown.

What am I supposed to do?

I sob into my pillow as an inky blackness seeps into my brain, chest and then gut. It is dark and so tangible it feels like another person inside of me. Someone I do not know. That is a good realisation, but also scary.

I shout: "No! Get out!"

Thankfully the blackness is fleeting and the thoughts leave my brain for a short while. But my gut is still all tied up, like the line of a fishing spool let out too fast and suddenly mangled up in mess of tight knots.

I have a family and a job. Bills to pay. People to explain myself to...

What do I do next?

>>> Help me write PART 2 by interacting with this story. Like, subscribe, share >>>

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Did you know, Millenials and GenZ's have unprecedented mental health issues? It is sad and worrying. But not hopeless. Things can change.

A hope-filled money saving guide for parents:

A practical guide to managing overwhelm as a parent

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About the Creator

Tim Boxer

Tim is UK-based writer of all things family, faith and adventure.

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Comments (2)

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  • Alex H Mittelman about a month ago

    Well written! Great work.

  • Lana V Lynxabout a month ago

    Gripping, Tim. I just started to write a story about how some people feel invisible at work: they do a lot, are reliable and consistent and others take them for granted. Maybe that's one direction to take?

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