The days I feel like this, my brain moves a little slower. My body too. My face clearly shows distress but I don’t have the energy to curve the sides of my lips into a smile. I don’t exactly feel dead, but I don’t feel alive either. I am walking and talking, but I’m not actually here. I move through the actions without thought but my head is elsewhere.
I want to sleep, because it’s the closet thing to death that doesn’t take me away from my family forever. It’s the closet thing to peace that doesn’t hurt anybody.
I feel shame. I feel tired. I feel like I’ve been defeated.
I can’t stop drinking. Or smoking. I don’t read and I don’t write. I don’t run and I don’t move my body. I barely eat fruits or vegetables. I am so afraid of the slow ways I am killing my brain and my body, but I don’t have the energy to change.
On days like today, I feel like I don’t have what it takes. I don’t have the will power to change my life in the ways I want to see change. Days like today I know I’ll end up like my parents. I know I’m not the cycle breaker I told myself I would be for my daughter.
It’s hard to function like this. I’m one hour into work, and I have no idea how I will get through the remainder of this day. I have no idea how I will be a mom tonight, living in the filth of my house and embarrassed my daughter will witness the way I live sometimes.
I’m shut down, because the cruel voice in my head is saying so many hurtful things. When I am scolded, I retreat. I retreat to this somehow simultaneously quiet and loud place in the crevices of my mind. So much hate lives here, and today I live here too. After years of therapy and practicing self compassion, I’ve somehow forgotten how to cope. It feels like an impossible mountain to climb, and my leg is broken, and there is no one here to help me up it.
I know I have Ashley. I know I have my sister. My mom. My daughter. But they’re not at the bottom of the mountain with me. They don’t know where I’ve gone. And if they can’t see me, they can’t help me. My voice is off, so I can’t call for help right now. So, I sit. I sit until my leg heals or until someone finds me and helps me up. I sit with the thoughts and the darkness and the numbness.
I know this doesn’t last forever. I know I’ll get up. I just can’t right now… And the bottom of this mountain always scares me. Even when I can’t feel anything else, I can feel the fear of losing myself for too long.
I am lost.