That other day. Where do I go?

Sicker than I had been in recent months. Exposed, susceptible, every sense raw, over exposed, over used, exhausted and chaotic.

Cried so much I threw up, again and again, but nothing ….

Cry cry cry, be careful you might die.


Vulnerable, confused, in pain. So much pain. The medication helped smooth the terrifying edges, but was quickly becoming ineffective.

Could see the line in front of me, the one I crossed in 2012. The one that broke my brain.

Routine! Self care!.

Can’t manage the actual pain. Clawing, gnawing, can’t get away from it….like a hand around your ankle, pulling you in, tighter the more you struggle.

Sunday night. Sunday night? My mind won’t let me remember Sunday night. I wasn’t well before, but something tipped me. I mustn’t forget it! If only I could remember it…

Was it him? Screeching down the phone, threatening me, then himself. “Slice fucking cunt into your forehead you stupid fucking bitch” . Did that happen? Photos of suicide options accompany text messages as he leaves voice messages of him running through woods, screaming, demonically declaring his intent to die by my lack of cooperation. “I know how, when, where!”

I don’t understand. I don’t know. Was it something I forgot? Was it Sunday night?

My unstable mental health is not up to the challenges posed. I make a commitment in church. I don’t even go to church, but sometimes we just have to be where feels safe. Like when I was little and thought angels, and God, were showing themselves to me. If I were a really really good girl, maybe they’d take me away.

I am growing accustomed to the loneliness that comes with this mind. I wish I could save everyone else though – because they don’t have to be alone as long as I’m willing to take the shot. But the fragility of the mind, or is it the soul, make it impossible for me to save anyone until I can save myself. I only need to save myself from me. Should be simple. Nothing is simple.

If I were stronger? If I were healthier? If I can make people smile, even if the sadness can consume me in my own time.

Where am I? How long have I been gone? Days and nights blur together, just time, the sound of time, the movements of everything from the particles vibrating in my wooden headboard to the movement of the planets, deafening… everything is the same thing.

And then, like the sun making a surprise appearance on a cloudy afternoon, I woke one day able to breathe again, senses at respectable volume settings, and see a world around me, me a part of it, not disconnected. Real. How long was I gone?

I was able to finally wash my hair, leave the house, and even make a phone call about a job.

I was back, from whatever distant, nightmarish place I had gotten lost in. Remembered only through random notes scribbled in hardly legible writing. Scribbles on walls….Texts, photos..I wasn’t here, but I wasn’t there. Don’t know how much time I have before it takes me away again – so must make sure to make most of being here, without doing too much that would cause a premature waking the dormant monster. Small, quiet steps.

Madness makes way for clarity. Terror makes way for an albeit tight smile. Shades of grey and acid tones make way for acceptable shades of various hues.

Exhausted from my travels, I know it will be a slow stroll back to ‘camp’. But an unencumbered one for a little bit at least.

And in a snap, life returned that day, or rather I returned to life. For a time anyway.

No reason.




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