Please fill in this field. in dum spiro spero

so.

60 seconds:

grief-loss.
it comes in towering-quaking waves that suck you under.
sand and grit
and regret and sadsadsad
rolls over you
and you’re upside down
where the view is shards-of-glass white bubbles
and flickering light-dark-light
and the blood in your ears is a roar.
which way is up?
60 seconds of:
where is the air?

“new” meds. meds i’ve already tried - just not in this combo, or so said the gentle-gentleman not-a-cunt psychiatrist. one who assessed me over EIGHT SESSIONS of thorough history and previous diagnoses. he was old and wizened into softness and what seemed a genuine desire to help ease suffering.

47th january inventory:

love of seanjakedrewpeter.
(i mean, i think i have it. they tell me i have it. i can’t feel it though so i just trust them. i wish i could feel it.)

i want to write so badly.
in my vivid-image way.
for all the awful shit that comes with being crazy - the part where i have INSANE (ha!) creativity and ideas and how i see and feel it so fucking intensely
(art. colour. texture. light. patterns. words. music. science. math.)
and how it makes me want to kneel and weep because it’s so beautiful - is pretty great.
sometimes my version of reality is just literally stunning - i can feel it thudding in my chest like a floor tom.

but i literally can’t do it anymore. the writing, i mean. i feel like i’ve been in a coma after a headtrauma and i woke up - absolutely startled silent because
what
happened
to
me
?
and
some things
are now
gone
nevertoreturn
???

(shhh! also i’m scared of being rejected because i’m so nutz nobody knows what to say, even.)

plus, this took too long and felt awkward as shit.
remember when i used to crank out some seriously great/hilarious shit - contents-wise - almost-every-day?
i miss her. where did she go? i think she might be dead.

(from therapy)

grounding technique:

briefly describe (without judgement or commentary - let it flooowwwww) what is directly in front of you.
what can you see, hear, smell, taste, etc.?

i can see:

1:44pm
from above, a shiny-satin black crow, low-flying, over the perfect-white-rectangle of snow on the roof of the scotiabank. high-contrast-dreamscape-shadows quality.
turquoise tigerstripe ribbon, tide in a knot
hazy-with-january-freeze light - burnished dark-copper church-steeple, orange tarps flapping over newbuild, blueblack glass diamond studded hi-rises, schoolhouse-red brick century homes with sprawling porches, massive-girth trees. one way.
grainy-focus monochrome-blurred quebec hills behind me, rising up like mist.

and then:

after you do that for five or ten minutes,
(!!!!! i can’t focus for that long)
you’ll (magically? supposedly? allegedly?) feel more centered and present.
it’s (magically? supposedly? allegedly?) a coping skill for when you feel dissociated or have stepped into the gasoline-fire funhouse that is derealization/depersonalization.

OR, (magically? supposedly? allegedly?) FOR WHEN YOUR ENTIRE EXPERIENCE IS JUST STUCK IN A THOUGHT-LOOP ABOUT HOW PROFOUNDLY FUCKEDUP YOU ARE.

instead, stiffness snakes over me - all i feel is frustration - where’s that “centered” and “present” stuff?

Last updated May 06, 2017