Here I am again, up past my bedtime, with my brain whirring. Whir whir whir. Yes, I can hear it. Worse, I can see it. I see flashes of people’s faces, movements, stumbling walks down an unknown road in the winter, fucked up on pot and alcohol and no meds. Blithering idiot at important times, lying my ass off in the next, making it all look and seem ok. I am ok, right?
One thing I know now, and feel now, that I haven’t felt in a million trillion bajillion years, is SAFE. I am SAFE. DSB will keep me SAFE. My Mom will keep me safe. My dogs will keep me safe. DSB and Mom won’t let anything happen to me. I trust in that, build my day around that. They protect me. But now? Now it’s dark and the thoughts and the flashes of people and places and things are my only company. I want to wake DSB up so he can give me a hug. I want to call my mom so she can tell me it will all be ok. I won’t do either of those things, though. But I can blog.
I can get those thoughts and feelings in ink so that I can remember tomorrow to get a few extra hugs, a few more reassurances. So I can remember to be a little more thankful for the people who are miracles in my little life. So I can cherish that kiss, that hug, that kind word a little bit longer, and not let it go so soon. I didn’t get enough hugs today and that was no one’s fault but my own.
I feel desperation inside of me. To get these flashes out of my head, to quiet the insistent echoes of voices, to make my brain stop taking me down those paths every night.
I took my sleeping pill tonight, and I’m going to do something, although I don’t quite know what yet, about the therapist situation. I absolutely have to get to the point where these memories don’t assault me with such force, such consistency, and such mean-spiritedness. I can’t keep on like this. I know I can’t. Can’t tolerate it. Something needs to happen, and it needs to happen soon.