There comes a time when the tension can no longer hold: earthquakes, tsunamis, that Yates poem, myself. Everything safe falls away and what is left is raw and exposed; everything hurts and soon there is too much to focus on any one thing, and too little left to grasp everything.
This is what craziness must feel like.
But I’m not crazy. Sure, I’m slightly askew, my logic isn’t always sound, and my jokes aren’t always funny, but I’m not batshit, nuthouse, call-the-asylum crazy. Except in these moments, that what it feels like. I’m falling apart from the inside and I don’t know where to start.
I’ll wake up tomorrow and do it again – I have to, for the sanity and the customers and the paycheck. There is no choice because to not do it is to admit defeat, and I won’t be defeated by my own mind. They call it coping mechanisms. I call it survival.
I took one step forward today and I’m proud to have reached out to professional help for the first time in years. It’s several weeks away, but it was a decision a long time coming.
I’ve been to therapy before – three different counselors in as many years – but over two years have passed since I stopped and my coping techniques that worked wonders don’t help anymore. I’m at a different stage of life now, and it’s time to update my repertoire.
Tonight, I don’t feel like myself. I’m not who I want to be. But I’m scared of the future and who I will become if I let go of what I have let define me for years.
So instead of wallowing, I’m doing something about it. I’m asking for your prayers and thoughts and good vibes. Thank you.