It Just Is

Relapse is relapse; It doesn’t matter how big or how small … the depth is immeasurable. The moment is just as significant. All the resulting emotions of relief, guilt, shame, numbness come back full circle just the same. I tried to convince myself otherwise. To say I’ve been struggling is an understatement.

That’s really all there is to say … I have no inspired messages of hope to offer. Believe me, I wish I did. But I’m not there currently. I hope to find my way back soon.

Until then … xoxoxo.

Upstairs, downstairs

“Hey, will you look in your room and tell me if there is pack of razorblades in there? They’re new and the container is black.”

” … Yea, I know … the pack of 100 … “

“I can’t find them anywhere!”

“No, they aren’t down here … and if they were I wouldn’t keep them down here …”

“Why?”

“Cause they’re triggering …”

Why would you wanna do that? You’re 30 years old.”

……

“Don’t tell me that. I have enough to worry about.”

Hmm, last I heard, addiction doesn’t give a shit how old you are. Guess that about sums up that conversation. I don’t even know how to process what just happened. It wasn’t planned. I feel small.

And I wish the blades were in my room.

[Possible triggers + pictures]

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Though it was in my space … placed purposely and apparently forgotten, balancing on my glasses case (not by me), I did not expect it to be there. It wasn’t one I chose … therefore, the sense of control while in my possession was absent. I put my glasses elsewhere for the night and decided to deal with it this morning, knowing I would get to see two friends for breakfast … which made the moment of picking up the blade less triggering and more predictable.

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Sometimes it’s the little accidental injuries that get me through … like scraping the skin off my knuckle when fighting with a stubborn door. Sometimes, it’s the annoying fact I have to use toilet paper because I don’t allow myself to buy bandaids or any other medical supplies for that matter.

Sometimes, it’s the friends who invite you along for breakfast. Sometimes, it’s the epic donuts that someone brings to work … so epic that I had 2. Sometimes, it’s the silly laughter of a coworker and the snarky commentary exchanged between us.

Sometimes, it’s the naughty antics of a pet …

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Sometimes, it’s the cuddles from the more obedient one …

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But today, in this moment, the stupid clumsy injury I have received … is satisfying the urge.

And thank God … the uninvited guest is gone … because I got to share breakfast with two adored people. That makes the loss worth it … whether it was invited or not.

And it makes me re-evaluate my self worth … and wish I never knew what it was like to purposely hurt myself.

An Inch Away

So, I had an exceptionally bad night last night … but made it through. 24 hours ago, I was jonesin’ to cut myself. I couldn’t think clearly. It was consuming my thoughts. With the house fixing we’ve been doing, there are alot of tools around. There are blades and utility knives in my space, ones that I didn’t choose to be there. I kind of feel outnumbered. To try and get away from it all, I decided to go help dad in the garage and that’s when I noticed a brand new, unopened box of 100 … yes, 100 … utility knife blades in a handy little dispenser. This was more than I could bear, and had they not been unopened, I would have stolen a few. Dad doesn’t have a clue about how much of a struggle this is for me still, and with my brother to worry about, I don’t want to add to his anxiety. I also don’t want accountability in that form.

I am somewhat relieved to say that the thoughts today are not as out of control. I was able to stay on the phone with my sweet friend until 11:00 or so last night … I think it was maybe an hour and a half of me feeling comfortable enough to just spew whatever thought overloaded my brain.

Today, I ran errands, which included visiting that same friend and helping her out a bit. She thinks I’m crazy, but even with the tasks I was doing, I said, “This may sound crazy, but there is really no other place I’d rather be.” She confirmed my crazy … and we laughed. I am truly happy in those times. There is something about the give and take of a relationship, the hard phone calls in vulnerable moments … and the moment you get to see the person after and they know that you made it through. I am thankful when people know that I’m okay … and have enough faith in me to know I will get past an obstacle, but also know when to intervene if I’m waivering.

So despite the hell I’ve gone through in the last 24 hours, I made it. And that is the here and now. And despite the gut-gnawing pain I’ve had the past few days, I have hope it will pass. I’ve chalked it up to anxiety … and I’m tired of it.

God, thank you for my chosen family, my people. They reveal your presence when I cannot see you.

Beep beep boop

Processing …
Please stand by.
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Overload.
System failure.

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That about sums up today. Add in a multitude of hugs that threaten to make my innards squeeze out my ear holes and it’s complete.

And here I am now … waiting for melatonin to drag me down. Laying in bed with discomfort. Thinking about tomorrow. Thinking about everything and how it’s impossible to think about everything. Thus – system failure.

I want to delete this post … but that would make the last 10 minutes pointless. And maybe I’m supposed to gain something from it …

Or maybe it’s just another … something … whatever.

I am disheartened at my lack of awareness of what I’m feeling. I am needing to carve canyons to figure it out.