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So, I think I’m learning through these interpersonal relationships to have perseverance and humility. Dang it, why do I keep praying for stuff like that? As I figured, I feel much better today after a bit of sleep. It seems to really calm the ripples of emotions that get stirred up whenever something happens in my life. I’m proud of myself, actually. There’s been at least two times in the last week where I was distressed and extremely tempted to throw up my hands and stay up all night like I usually do to cope. But even though I didn’t practice sleep hygiene, I turned off the iPad and went to sleep. Sometimes without even brushing my teeth. It’s gross, I know, but I’ve discovered that if I don’t go to bed when I’m tired, the ripples will keep on for hours while I lay in bed frustrated that I can’t sleep. And sleep is my best defence against the dark arts right now.

I’m feeling a lot more cheerful and optimistic, which myself from yesterday would probably be disgusted by. I’m not a coffee drinker, but I can just imagine her hunched over a hot mug, eyeing me with hostility and grumbling that I need to calm down. Oh, well, she’s not real, and I’m learning to live in the moment.

I was able to chat with a friend yesterday about what happened, and she was able to listen while I poured out the whole story. We both have some pretty trippy disorders, and even though we were both going through some mental breakdowns, we were able to laugh in the midst of it. We both wondered why we ever asked God to mold us into tools to help others. Sometimes the process sucks so much. Right now I don’t feel too badly about it, though.

Another thing that really helped me was my writing. Just like last year when I was barely holding on. I took that pain I was feeling and I decided to just write it all out. I remembered the thoughts I was having when I wanted to end things, and I put it into a scene I was planning with Ben. I can save the rest of it for adding to a scene I already have with Lanie – someone is likely to throw back in her face the fact that she abandoned Ben, and it’s something that she tries to move past, but some people just won’t let her. I didn’t even realize when I wrote that how similar our stories would become. Sometimes I’m there for my characters, sometimes they are there for me.

Another thing that helped was getting outside. I was planning on going to church like I usually do on Tuesday nights, and I did go. I was literally crying on the way there, and had to leave thirty seconds into the first song to go cry in the basement. I had been hoping to find someone to talk to there, but honestly I felt like I would be a burden because it’s just the same things that I always cry about. Considering the “here we go again” attitude of the people who keep throwing my suicide attempts back in my face, I really didn’t need to feel self-conscious about my repetitive problems. I’m mostly sure this is a fallacy, and I’m going to call one of my friends who I talked to about this last time and at least try to see if he’ll listen to me. But hey, different relationships can provide different things.

I was too far gone to sit through the service without continually crying, so I left. I had planned to walk by the river and maybe call a helpline or something, maybe see if there was room at the hospital for a night. But the last thing I want is to be committed right now, especially since that would just prove them all right. But I’m past the point of hiding to avoid being judged; I’m going to thrive out of sheer spite, if nothing else. For now, anyway.

Right when I was about to take the bridge to the river I decided to just go home instead, because I remembered what I’ve been discovering about sleep. So I caught the train and went back, texting my friend on and off until I got home. Miracle of miracles, my roommates were leaving, so it would give me some privacy in the house to cry or do whatever I needed. As much as I wanted to shut myself in my room and watch YouTube all night, I brought the YouTube downstairs and made the sweet potato fries I’d been craving forever. I ate two pounds of sweet potato last night, with like half a cup of ketchup, and it is still sitting in my stomach. While the fries were cooking, that’s when I poured everything out to my friend.

So, it was a hard day. I had to leave that toxic conversation and try to get back to work. I was crying while I folded laundry and crying while I walked. As much as I hate feeling weak, I am glad that I was able to cry so much, because I’d ironically been talking with a friend before the meeting about how important it was to cry. And I was telling her a bunch of stuff about not being afraid to be authentic and move things around to make them more suitable for your life. Of course, all those lessons become swirly mush in the midst of an emotional Geostorm, but I think it’s helping the episodes to be shorter, more preventable, and less damaging. As much as I wanted to throw up my hands and quit absolutely everything yesterday, including my volunteering, hopes and dreams, and yes, even my life, I didn’t do anything too destructive, and I just hunkered down and waited for it to pass. That’s some positive growth, and I’m proud of myself. Writing this has also been helping, because yes, as much as I hate the “use me” prayer sometimes, everyone’s going to go through some pain in this life anyway, so may as well go for broke and be able to connect with as many people as possible. 

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