I’ve been here before.
Crying all the time. Too tired to think about anything but the next have-to that’s in front of me. Angry and anxious, complaining every time I open my mouth. Sleeping too much, or not at all. Eating constantly, or not at all.
I’m a real fun gal.
I am getting a little scared and am starting to forget what pulled me out of the hole the last time. Metta. Honesty. Therapy. I have to work at it, and I know I have to work at it, and it’s not fucking fair.
I am so tired.
I remember what it felt like on the bottom. Everything was foggy. I didn’t know what I thought, or what I felt like. I moved slowly, I talked slowly, but inside I was tied up tight. The knot in my stomach was constant and the inner monologue never stopped. “What’s wrong with you?” “Why can’t you just be grateful for what you have?” “Don’t you know how good you have it?” “You are so fucking lazy. Get up off your ass.” “You stupid useless bitch.” “All you ever think about is yourself. Selfish goddamn useless waste.”
Then the small voice inside me would start to think that if I could just lie very, very still for long enough, everything would stop. If I could squeeze into myself and get small enough, and still enough, and quiet enough, maybe I could just fade into the scenery. Nothing would happen and nothing would continue and nothing would hurt and nothing would.
It doesn’t work that way, though, and my life didn’t stop and there was no time for fogginess and slowness. I had to keep going, and eventually I found myself in a therapist’s office, trying to talk to a total stranger through the wet fog of my brain.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I don’t want to go back down. I have to work harder at this. Meditation. Metta. Honesty. Countering my negative self-talk. I am a good person. I am a kind person. I am a passionate person. I am a person.