its been a long time since i’ve written something worth writing.
i think that’s been the hardest part; the loss of my own voice.
i picked up a mug i made at clay cafe this week. i apparently painted it in early september. i have no memory of it, even after seeing it. but i wrote my name on it, and its a pattern i was drawing on everything for awhile. its a nice mug. its the little reminders of insanity, you know? it says ‘get well’ on the bottom. i feel a strange comfort and unease when i drink out of it.
people keep asking me to speak places. on stigma, or living with mental illness or disability policy. like i have something to say. like i have an opinion. like i know something. did i used to know something? was there something i used to have to say? i dont want this anymore. i want to stay down here, in my mess and my discomfort and not have anyone notice or judge me. i dont want to get up in front of people and talk. i dont want to be seen as someone with answers. i wish i could be silent.
i see things, sometimes. when im typing on laptops and i can see the open word document that isnt there. the scrambling pace of clicking keys that i know aren’t currently moving. the intense sinking feeling of panic in my chest; the thoughts rushing through my head. the frantic, desperate depression.
grounding techniques they say. 5 things in the room with you, 4 things you can hear, 3 you can touch, 2 you can smell….
im getting flashbacks of being psychotic.
what a fucking weird sentence.
i get them from the rape, too, but those arent nearly as disturbing. i get those in public all the time. almost every time we go to the bar, really. i just need a couple minutes and i can keep going.
but not these. these just break me. these make me fall on the floor and cry.
it doesnt really make sense, does it?
this lives inside me. its settled there, buried. but i keep it. it doesnt leave. its mine.
it is legitimately my greatest fear, and i always know its there.
and the shittiest part is, that its set off by stress. so its always going to be like this; its always going to be tragedy turn psychotic meltdown. im never just going to have a bad thing happen. im going to have a bad thing happen and then be completely non functional, altered states and inconsistent understandings of realities.
how do you move through the day with that?
im moving forward. Im making it through the class I’m in. I still cant look at the studentsNS work… its such a bad trigger. its awful. ive developed an intense phobia of a stack of paper.
theres nothing that makes you feel weaker. honestly.
i made soft pretzels today. or tonight.. or this morning, i guess. my sleep schedule is messed; trying to pull an all nighter to correct it. the pretzels are good. new things are good. food and step. food and step.
everyone keeps telling me how much better i am.
thats all, i guess.