I'm afraid that this is a good as it gets. That from here and from now it is just a long steady decline into endless, existential angst.
Because things are good right now... I have a place to live in a neighborhood I like. I have a job that I adore. I have a great little family including a Spouse whom I adore. My kids are in good schools. None of us are hungry or Sick. I have a faith community that suits my peculiar approach to religion (#quakersrule). I have (but don't really go out of my way to see) a handful of amazing F/friends. The weather is gorgeous and the trees are clad in fire and topaz. And with all this going my way I am just barely treading water. Did I mention I have great healthcare that includes mental health providers. And I am medicated for my serious mental illness. I got no reason to be where I am. But here I am. I've been having idle recurring thoughts--more of a recurring image, like a dream but while waking--of putting a long jagged scar along the length of my left arm. And imagining that the only reason that I don't do that is because I have a heavy beaded cuff around my left wrist. I don't think I am going to actually do anything. But it is a disturbing recurring thought to have. The vivid image takes me by surprise and makes me feel ill. It feels almost like a flashback, only there is nothing to flashback to. When I was in middle school I had a habit when my anxiety was overflowing. I would absentmindedly scratch through the skin on the back of my left wrist. Not deeply. Just enough and often enough that there was a remnant of a scar there for a long time. Not really anymore. I don't think. I started making beaded cuffs a few years ago when I fell into this habit against my will (briefly and before beginning treatment for bipolar) after decades of not engaging in deliberate/unthinking self-harm. The cuffs call my attention to what I am doing in general. Not that there is any great impulse to fall back into my old habit. Almost never. The cuffs are for something else now. Something more general. Grounding. The thoughts of the long jagged scar on my arm--of putting the jagged scar on my arm--feel the same as my fear of jumping out of a chairlift while downhill skiing. I would never do this. But I am afraid, nevertheless. I am not afraid of falling. I am afraid of jumping. But not really. Intention is not there. Only fear. I got observed at work. And the bonus of being in a Depressed mood state was that I didn't get overly anxious. I just didn't think it would matter when she came to see me because whatever she saw would suck. I am not happy with how things went, but we were favorably reviewed. So there's that. This is a depressing post. I can smell ginger squash soup simmering. My daughter is playing happily with her friend. Elderboy is a work doing a job that he really enjoys. Spouse will be home soon. Tomorrow I will get up and bathe in a tub with a working drain (since I fixed that today). I will go to work with coworkers I value and enjoy. I will put one foot in front of the other. I will smile and laugh and feel like an actual human being. I can fake that for a few hours and it makes me feel better, really. I know that staying home and not doing anything or seeing anyone is not good for me. I am just afraid to do anything else. Fear is my overarching emotion at the moment. No intention. Only fear. I hate being afraid. It makes me feel weak. I can't tolerate weakness in myself. But it's all I can see. I wish I saw myself as strong. I know I am. I know that I kick ass as a human being. Really. If I met me, I think I would be friends with me. I have pretty solid ethics. I'm loyal. I won't say anything behind your back that I wouldn't say to your face, for the most part. I'm just mad enough to be interesting but not enough to be terrifying. meds: 300mg lamotrigine 20 mg -- but I don't think it is magically dealing with my Depression as it has in the passed. *sigh* Comments are closed.
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K. BuchananQuaker, teacher, parent, |