#tw:death tw:violence: tw:covid-19 tw:ableism tw:suicide

[firespirited]

I’ve had this song in my head

read more for tw:death tw:violence: tw:covid-19 tw:ableism tw:suicide

havn’t been able to get it out of my head and in a different way from your usual earworm. going back to the youtube page and pressing play like pressing on a bruise or pulling on a wound, disturbed by why a call to die is very much how I feel, someone spoke my ache into words and it’s wrong because i’ve got a depression that won’t quit and need to fight such dark thoughts. As I fell asleep my brain put two and two together and i’m not *quite* as disturbed anymore.

It’s not the same of course, but lately being a “vunerable” person with a “high risk” family has felt like being an acceptable civilian casualty, the cheap price for everyone else’s peace of mind and quality of life. You try to focus on all the people who are sacrificing and caring but the loudmouthed business interests speak over all the good, get their way at the majority’s expense. I’m afraid for the second wave and I’m afraid we’re already seeing distancing and hygiene fatigue that’ll set in before there’s a vaccine in 12-18 months, if said vaccine even proves safe for the at risk populace. I’m deeply upset at my mum’s nonchalance towards dying. I’m upset that they aren’t talking about how this is one of the worst ways to die. If you’ve been following for a while you’ll know I did extensive research into death and suicide specifically and joined groups that discussed these matters back in my late teens, early twenties cuz dad would threaten suicide or other high risk behaviour on the reg, at the time I didn’t know he was incapable of hurting himself, he was just toying with us.

...Blow me from the side of the mountain and into the sea...

For the past year or two before the plague arrived, i’d been having recurring dreams about an alternate world where I had a ex junkie roommate who was my best friend for years. She went in for routine surgery with a clear “no opiates” note on her file and been given morphine then i’d got myself in big trouble trying to ‘kidnap’ her to get to rehab. Her resentment ran deep because I represented guilt so she screwed me over big time, left me with ptsd. After time had gone by, we’d meet up and i’d hand her clean syringes, condoms, hygiene essentials. Help her map her veins for new sites. Cordial, sad, nothing more. Then she gets a lung disease where fluid builds up and you slowly drown and I work my ass off to get her a place in palliative care but can’t bring myself to visit but I know exactly how it’s going down because that’s the curse of knowing this stuff. I thought it was the brain’s way a way of dealing with unresolved issues wrt dad and his stroke or mazzie’s slow death far away or mum’s bad hospital stay, the guilt i felt for not being able to advocate for her. Sis thinks i might just have sleep apnea LOL that’s somehow comforting, I’ve had plenty of landmine dreams where I woke up with searing hip to foot pain so yeah. I don’t know. I really don’t know.

...Let me be the apple of your eye...

Then one february there’s a new SARS with lung fluid death and i’m suddenly faced with the concept that thousands won’t get sedation for THAT and I can’t explain, it’s like if you had a paranoia of ants and nightmares about ants and one day you woke up and there was a worldwide killer ant infestation being mismanaged. Can’t tell you how surreal this has been, writing my living will around the particle spray risk my body will pose to medical personnel if I code but really wanting to live some more if it’s survivable even if my liver’s shot and i breathe with a tank...having to know my loved one’s personal preferences about it all. i’m an expert at keeping distracted, just busy enough to keep the bad thoughts at bay but on any given day I can open the window and the neighbours are loudly discussing bad science, socially distancing 1 yard apart or a carer will knock on my door and want to talk over how scared *they* are of getting it, not to mention every business you’ve ever patronized wants to give their two cents.

So yeah there have been moments where i’m like “throw it at me world, let’s get it over with. I’ve been through excruciating pain and fear before, have at it” if I survive, i survive. ...I have a glint in my eye, I think I want to die...

But also sis has always assumed that her and I would die together and I can’t imagine going on without her. Folks think we’re twins, I’m the crutch to her autism and her the crutch to my ADHD, we’ve been a team as far back as I have memories. ...my blood, my blood..

So knowledge is supposed to be power but mind over matter is a lie. Knowing why you’re a mess doesn’t fix a thing so you tell yourself you have a mental cancer and you’ll take extra care and dog knows, I have. Maybe there has to be some space for the fear to scream, days we take to say I can’t take it any more , even though it’s wrong. Days where escapism doesn’t work so you wallow with your ugly thoughts and hope maybe your brain’ll make some extra serotonin? I could do with a good cry but nothing will come, it’ll happen at random and the toxic build up will seep outta my brain for a while. I want a big undignified messy meltdown. I want relief. I’ve wanted faith for so long and I want a fricking unicorn.

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So I’ll pick myself up like a ragdoll, try to control what I can, do friday’s tasks, push it all down into a sore little ball ...my crystal guts... , look at my shiny plastic trinkets and hope for hope.