Even Me   Leave a comment



I’m not suicidal.  I’m not.  So if this comes across that way not only am I sorry and not only do I not want you to worry or panic or what have you, but I also need for you to step back from whatever I’ve said so that you can gain some perspective.  I am feeling lost and overwhelmed and I am reaching out.  And in that reaching out I am a bit frantic.  I realize that when I get this way I can make some rather poor decisions as can most people who have hit a certain point and maybe I need more help than I have been seeking.  Maybe it shouldn’t be left up to me right now to be the one to gather the support.  Maybe someone else should step up and take the wheel from my hands because I am really not in the best place to be making these kinds of decisions.  But who is going to do that?  Ultimately, no matter how much love I have in my life, and there is plenty of love, I am left alone to do this for myself because those that can are far away and those that are near are really just not all that capable, at least not anymore so than I am.

As my previous posts have explained, I am going to therapy.  I go weekly and I make a solid effort, but there is only so much that someone like me can get out of talking to someone for an hour at a clip.  I have some deep, tangled, messy problems that will take years to unravel at this current pace.  And while I would love to invest years in my mental health I certainly worry that if large, sweeping strides of improvement are not made relatively quick I am going to be taking other steps in various other directions landing me not at the base of freedom and independence, but perhaps closer yet to the edge of destructive behavior.

Like I stated at the beginning, this isn’t about suicide.  I am not thinking about taking a bottle of pills or jumping off of a bridge.  I have far too much static inside of my head to come to that sort of conclusion.  At least, that kind of thing seems way too distant a thought.  What occurs to me so much more frequently and provides me with some semblance of comfort is the urge to slash and burn down random entities that stand in my way.  In my way of what I have no real clue, but it’s just the general idea that people are always bothering me and standing between me and somewhere else that I want to be.  And if only I could slash and burn my way through the masses maybe, just maybe, on the other side of the mayhem there will finally be some kind of peace for me where the drum and hum and static comes to a rest and the drilling and pounding, the quaking and rocking slows and I can finally just be still.

It probably doesn’t make a lot of sense if you’re out there living your life.  But in here, in my head where waves are deep blue and sand is blood red and there is only beach where ever I go, I am just trying to find balance.  I am trying to make it stop so that I can breathe again.  I am a horrible monster, I know.  But I am only trying to get back to where I am at peace.  Everybody deserves peace, don’t they?  Even me.  Even me.


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