Thursday, August 9, 2012
One Week In
I wish my urges to write didn't only occur when I was sad, angry or fucked up (mentally, not with alcohol.) But, let's be real, they only occur when I'm sad. angry or fucked up.
I've given myself one week to process. A death of someone close, a suicide scare of another close friend of mine who (thank goodness) is fine at the moment, and a whole lot of City Year bullshit has put me in a really fucked up place right now. But the week is now coming to a close, and I feel just as close to the edge.
There is a tendency for me to use the phrase 'dark place' too much in a joking manner - i.e. joking about going to dark places during monologues - but it really isn't a joke at all. Right now I feel like I'm moving closer and closer to do not return place. As much as I try to make light of it, I can't deny how scared I am, as well. I know what that's like when I go there, and it truly does feel like a one way ticket. It begins with that teetering feeling: one foot is on the ledge and one foot is already dangling off of it, and you're just yelling at yourself over and over to just take a fucking step back but your body won't respond. No matter how much you try to say "this isn't real, this isn't real, it's just an emotion, a fleeting feeling that you control," there's really no control at all. And that's what I'm really afraid of, I suppose.
Earlier this year, I let myself lose control. One moment I was there and the next I was weak, I was needy and I just couldn't do it alone. But last time, another person was responsible for that loss...and that almost helped, in a way. Because every time I wanted to cry, I let the tears burn me as they fell and turn into anger instead. There's no one to blame this time. There is no one to point fingers at if I slip below the surface and drown myself this time.
Positivity is being thrown my way, but every time I hear another "it will get better" I just want to gently explain that they need to grow the fuck up and realize that's not reality for some people. The only thing I can do is remind myself that I didn't drown last time. This time last year, I thought I wouldn't ever be able to feel truly happy again. But I did. It took a long time, it took almost a year, actually, but I did make it. Ironically, everything came crashing down as soon as I built it back up, but this time for totally different reasons. But it'll be okay, right? "It will get better," as they have said so often these last passing hours.