On paper
opportunities lie ahead
Adventure, discovery, newness awaits
But in reality
It feels as if with
Every breath
Every walk down a familiar road
Every taste of a meal I had once longed for
I am opening an old wound
Filled with rot, pus, infected in parts
but also with blood
life.
Or rather a life once lived.
Why come back?
I ask myself this every day
And I don’t fully know why?
A chance to revive some old version of myself?
To relive?
To replay?
To rewrite?
No all of these come with too much risk.
I did not like most parts of myself
Some pasts are punishment enough
Maybe, but I think I’m hypercritical enough
What if I erase the mistakes I needed to make or the heartbreak I needed to feel or the joys I found?
So in order to move forward
I think I have to start with revealing.
I would not say I cut.
Rather I sawed at my skin with a dull blade.
Before that nails digging
In
A faint pink line
Prior to that
biting the hand that fed me
leaving callused marks on my palm
Mind you
This was not an everyday occurrence.
Sometimes a monthly visit
Or a weekly appointment
But most of the time
The numbness/urge/need came on suddenly.
My junior year was when
I began to get into
My rhythm.
Feeling out of control
Entering my personalized hellscape
Emblazoned on the gates
“You are not enough, but you are too much”
Upon entering I would quickly lose my footing
And tumble.
I just wanted to disappear.
Poof.
I was not special, needed, or wanted
What was the point of me attempting to
Breathe this air
Or take up this space?
Then I would list my worries:
Relationships falling apart
Being alone forever
Talking too much and not speaking up when I should
Wondering if people really liked me
I am annoying
I ask too many questions
I’m not a good person
I’m not smart enough, happy enough, pretty enough
I’m overwhelming
I’m doing too much, too controlling
I’m doing too little, I’m not helping
What would people think of me if they knew I was a fraud?
As I sunk deeper
The attempts to get back to the surface were for naught
I couldn’t talk my way out of this ocean I created
So I bit, scratched, sawed, and sliced my way out of it.
The “pain” would not fall under the dictionary definition
It was searing, burning, a small electrical surge
And I was back.
Staring down at the small beads of red forming
A wave of shame.
I was embarrassed
I still am in a lot of ways
If someone knew that I did this they would call me “crazy”
I felt crazy.
In public I would make up an excuse of me being clumsy
Walking into a door
Falling on the pavement
Burning myself with an iron.
Feverishly for the days and weeks after
I would return home
Lift my bandaids and examine the healing process.
The act of healing was my solace
But also fed into my next episode.
I was fueled by the movement to wholeness again.
I was patient with them, but filled with anxiety.
Willing them with my mind to disappear, as I once wish I did.
I was better.
As the four years came to a close
I became impatient
The prospect of life coming into my rearview
Added to the terror.
The numbness began to set in.
I had again not been enough or I was too much.
I had squandered my time, I was lost and did not want to be found.
New Years Eve
A time for new beginnings
New promises
Striving to be better.
But I couldn’t
As sparklers went off around me I began to panic.
I left. By myself.
Silently wept as I listened to the ball drop over the radio.
Stumbled into the elevator.
And cut until I could finally go to sleep.
I still have the scars from that night
More like shadows now
If you catch them in the right light.
Days later celebrating birthdays
I couldn’t shake how scared I was.
Of being exposed.
Of hurting myself more than I did.
I went back and finished my last semester
Finally told my therapist what I was doing
And started to go weekly
I was happier
I had plans
I felt wanted
I felt enough.
I walked across the stage and thought this was finally over
I could move on from this point in my life and move across the country
Figure out what I was going to do
Months after graduating
I realized I may have been wrong about those things
My anxiety got worse
I felt worthless the morning I left for my new life.
I still spiral into my personal hellscape:
The waves of worry
The hall of distorted mirrors
And the evil psychic who tells me of my future.
But now I know that eventually
The carnival closes
And the lights go on
And I can go home.
New Years came and went this year
And I sat surrounded by friends and family
And I cried multiple times
And I felt broken
And I went to bed.
I share this because although I want to move forward, to ignore the past is to all this numbness to take over again, to not recognize it lurking in the corner, to confront it.
For the ones I told, I am forever grateful for your love and just the fact that you not only heard me, but listened.
To the ones I did not tell, I am sorry I couldn’t let you in and there are so many moments I wish I had.
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