published november 16, 2022
these past few weeks have been a blur... i feel like im living two different versions of my life at the same time, like im phasing in and out of who im supposed to be and what im supposed to be doing. i feel mentally exhausted because of it. not physically tired, i can probably run a mile and feel fine. my brain is just so fried that i lack the ability to comprehend whats even going on most of the time.
on one hand, im feeling really great! im going outside everyday to take a walk, im taking my meds, i eat a full meal every day, i get some chunks of schoolwork done and feel confident about what im learning, i open up to my friends about my feelings and share as much positivity as i can possibly give right now... i dont feel awful about my appearance or my body, i dont hear the barrage of insecure thoughts i usually sense throughout the day.
im thinking more positive thoughts about my friendship with ████ and im easing myself into acceptance, listing all the things im grateful
for even throughout these awful few weeks. i comfort myself the best i can when it comes to ████ by doing the things i usually do like write or listen to music that reminds me of him or daydreaming about our memories together. i go to therapy still (i might switch therapists though) and im even talking to my mom more and shes being nice which makes me happy. i play with ██████'s cats for entertainment, and whenever i wake up i feel like i look
forward to having a fulfilling day.
i feel like my life is just okay. but thats good enough for me, for someone who isnt used to things being okay.
but then there are these little interferences, little blips in time and reality where that recovering, optimistic, hopeful version of myself disappears for a moment, or a few minutes, or a few hours. its replaced with this thing that i can only describe as darkness consuming me whole, like im being suffocated in an ocean. suffocation -- thats really the most accurate way to visualize my depression and bpd symptoms. it feels like a version of me that isnt actually me, but is part of me. a part of me that convinces me everyone hates me and is purposely avoiding me, a part of me that reminds me of my bad decisions and how much of a monstrosity i am to the people around me. it renders me moveless in bed, or gives me enough movement to be able to curl up into a ball to sob. it feels like a million ants crawling into the crevices of my brain, eating up the grey and white matter, and stopping all forms of rational thought. i feel impulsive, ready to reach over for the knife and scrape my skin, or willing to spend the
night letting a stranger i met online touch my body, or taking
a hit of a blunt or a cigarette because all my brain wants to
do is snap out of it by feeling something -- anything.
this isnt me. i know this darkness isnt me. these arent things that i would normally do. what happened to the ash that would preach positivity and taking care of your body to be the best version of yourself that you
