#almost had a crisis about how i'm like mac anyway

[bitterlyromantic]

hello,,,, hi hello good morning good evening hi da– hi dad– sorry hi hello hi hi sir hi hello. hello hi!!!! hiiii!!!!

[butterytoast]

The objective is not to die

How will you accomplish it? How long do you have to not die for? How long can you stand focusing on being alive for? Start there What is it feeling like in your body to want to die? Identify areas and sensations. Are any related to immediate physical needs?

I heard going on walks is good for you. But that involves being alone outside and at some point it starts to feel like I could get lost. I ask people to take me for walks like a child. I will avoid talking to them so I don't wear them down. There's no point talking at this point to others because I'm stuck in a loop, ruminating. I'm not actually processing anything. I am a mouth and a throat with no stomach. I swallow all human affection but cannot hold it. I am a black hole. I have to heal internally so I can even digest kindness, so for now I do not seek it.

What does a drowning person look like if you can't see the water? Switching metaphors again, what does a deep sea creature look like when you remove it from the pressure of the depths? Comical? Weak? Unstructured?

Somehow I got out, but am I out yet? My dad always told me that wounds healed best exposed to air. I believed this and followed the advice for psychic wounds as well, avoiding secrets. It turns out you find out who your friends are if you tell the truth. At least you know if some of them are your friends. It's a horrible test to put people through though, some might just not have the capacity. When I got gnarly road rash skateboarding, I tried exposing the wound to air. It was horrible and crusty and weepy. Then I tried slathering it in polysporin, covering it in oil infused gauze and wrapping it up from there. My dad wasn't sure. I kept changing it every day. Within about a week, I had a new layer of skin on a wound that had been probably 4" x 4". I'm not sure I can get much pleasure from the external world at the moment because my internal world is hell. I want to believe that there is an innate knowledge inside of me for healing. I want to believe that I can heal from the inside out. I know I need to at least quarantine myself until I stop sabotaging my relationships. But I have to be so careful to structure my time and have routines and switch things up to keep myself safe alone. I cook vegetables and salmon on sheet pans. I put out my yoga mat in case I manage to do yoga on the downdog app. I go to work even though I can't do much of it. I need to assemble a team. I need to let people know I am consciously trying to distribute my support to not burn anyone out. No matter how much therapy I have lined up, I'm still treating every hour I'm here and not performing self sabotage as an accomplishment. Write. write write. All I can really do. The place I can almost uncoil the ruminations. Notes app on my mac. Notes app on my phone. small notebook. large notebook. I try not to, but whatsapp, sometimes, voice notes on my phone. Self care app journaling. I'm sick of myself but I can't stop because it's how I can hold the horror that keeps spilling from the pit of my stomach. It's tempting to demonize but it's disempowering. I'm here. I don't know why I walked into a bad situation I could see. I wanted closure or certainty. This is more than closure or certainty, this is a spiral. Once I stayed alive by drawing a spiral on a rock and putting it in my pocket. I would touch it when I had spiraling thoughts. Knowing is not everything, but it's one thing. I called a mental health crisis line last night. I lost two friends yesterday by being confrontational. I constantly feel shaky no matter how much I eat. Today I have osteopathy. Tomorrow I have therapy. I write letters no one will read. I can't believe we all survive this. Most of us anyway.