NOTE: This is a low piece. It contains some reference to suicidal ideations. I’m not in a good place and this is darkly reflective of that. Consider that before proceeding. If you don’t have tools and support for how to handle tough feelings, i would recommend skipping this one.
Hold me down, I’m so tired now
Aim your arrow at the sky
Take me down, I’m too tired now
Leave me where I lie
~ Florence and the Machine, Sky Full of Song
I am not okay. The stress of my therapy is high, the stress of my marriage is medium, the stress of the virus is intense, the stress of politics is insane, and the stress of my children is over 9000.
I’m so turned around i’m not sure if i’m dealing with a depression or a mania. I think i’m coming out of a depression, and a mania is peeking at me from around the corner, but i’m hesitant to rely on my insight into anything recently. As i look back over my last couple of months of entries, there are moments of clarity that may produce self-esteem, while others threaten to drown me in despair.
And yes, i’m dealing with some feelings that border on suicidal. There’s no plan, but there has been some ideation. In the past, both the ideations and the attempts, were more about wanting the feelings i was having to stop, but not being able to do it myself. They were about my actions screaming that i needed serious help, when i didn’t have the words to ask, couldn’t say them, or had no one/didn’t know who to say them to.
Now i have a therapist (the lovely Ms T), and good support by way of my husband, my closest girlfriend, and an online community of people that i trust and with whom i have a long history of being genuine and honest.
The feelings are stemming from the therapy, i think. There’s a lot of looking back involved – that’s just the way it is.
But also, the state of the world is not exactly helping.
I know i regularly write about feeling as if i’m about to break into a million pieces. It too, is the nature of therapy, i think. It results from the looking back. And maybe from the looking forward… God yes – the trying to envision a future where i am not this broken and bleeding thing. This creature that skirts the light, blinking blindly up from the edge where i’m trying so hard not to seep back into the shadows.
But the darkness pulls at me, picking at my clothes like hungry birds.
And the blackness sucks at my feet, winds up my legs, making me slow, like running from the Evermore in an endless nightmare. So heavy – my body will not obey me.
I’m truly becoming afraid that i have nothing left.
It’s not as easy as grieving the terrible traumas endured by the wee and lovely lass that i once was… I wish – i would feel close to glory were that the case.
No, it is the wreckage that i’ve wrought that brings me to this lonely and desolate place.
Laying down the burdens of my progenitors that were never mine to carry has taken most of my life. I was ready to launch into the future – blazing past the atmosphere into the vast Beyond. Neon rainbow unicorn fire-goddess me.
But stop. Here now, what is that impeding my acceleration into the starry soup of fabulous possibilities?
These things at my feet wrapped in butcher’s paper, tied in twine and looking like tonight’s supper?
These are not pieces of me.
These are the bits and chunks that i’ve hacked off of others. Ready for me to drag them back to my hidey-hole. To slowly spit and then to consume its rancid, blackened meat.
If you’ve read enough of my posts, you surely recognise that i get all metaphorical when i’m dealing with the most unpalatable parts of my existence.
The damage i’ve done to others is the thing i must now choke down.
Finally being light enough to take off my death dress and dance into the New Days, naked and scrubbed pink and shiny… I can’t.
Now, that was a tricksy thing you did there, Life/Universe/Me.
Metaphors over. What’s happening is i can now see beyond my own pain and suffering, and that means seeing that which i’ve caused others. And as seems to be the horrid and inexorable way of things – it is to those whom i hold dearest i’ve dealt the most.
I hope i can carry these burdens into the New Days, but i don’t know. It’s ugly and bitter and it’s me and what i’ve done. Just as i was born into a life i didn’t ask for, so were my children. Just as my mother did damage to everyone around her, i find the same can be said of me.
And it hurts to breathe right now.
Oh look at me
At all I’ve done
I’ve lost so many things that I so dearly love
I lost my soul
I lost my pride
Oh I lost any hope of having a sweet life
So I cry,
~ Jann Arden, Hangin’ By a Thread