For the first time in a very long time I wish I was still a smoker. Like, I would seriously kill for a cigarette right about now. I need something, anything, to keep my hands busy. The last few days have been painfully difficult.
I don’t know what it is that makes me want to push everyone away and wipe myself off of the planet every time my mother throws out one of her curveballs. The latest, when she decided that I’d led a sheltered life set the wheels in motion for some extreme white-knuckle moments. I’ve worked incredibly hard to keep myself distracted enough that I am still breathing but in all honesty it’s been a bit touch and go over the last 36 hours. I seem to have once again become unattached to living. I can’t even put into words how awful things are in these moments.
I just want…
Get as far as possible from what feels like a neverending cycle of pain and sadness and feeling unworthy of absolutely everything. Yesterday, I was ready. Like really, ready. The only person who knows how hard it is right now is T, but it took a lot to even tell him.
I went to therapy but was quiet, withdrawn and so far away in my session that I could barely find even a single word to say to T. I left early because I just couldn’t be in the same room as another person. Afterwards we texted a few times. In the end T told me that he needed me to stay close and keep him informed of what was happening. Today, he sent me another text checking on me and offered to text or chat whenever I was up for it. I’m too tired to talk to him right now. I answered just so he would know I was still here but that was about it.
I am just so tired.
And while during the day, I can keep the demons just on the outskirts, as nighttime approaches it feels like the walls are closing in on me. And now it feels too late to chat with T, so I’m writing this instead. It’s not the same, but it’s something, right?