Sunday, November 09, 2014

Fear Itself

"..but as bad as I am, I'm proud of the fact that I'm worse than I seem."
-Ani DiFranco, Grey

I'm having the hardest time placing my own face over the things I know to exist behind the place a face usually goes. Or, more accurately, I'm struggling to assign my own face to this illness inside. 

Probably because, insightful as I may tend to be, I don't understand what's going on. I'm exhausted almost all the time but I'm not physically tired, so I wake up frustrated that I'll have to fight myself to get out of bed...and then most likely lose anyway.

Lately, I've been spending loads of time with the people who I love, and who, I imagine, love me. I am sad to realize, though, that it has only made me feel marginally better. At some point during the evening, I often find myself struggling to contain myself within my own body...and then I panic.

One of a few things happens; but no matter what, I dissociate.

Sometimes, I isolate myself in a place with fresh, frigid air. I find a staircase somewhere and sit, collecting my breath, scanning every nuance of my environment, hyper-vigilant and hyper-aware. I wait until I'm ready to sink back into the norm.

Sometimes, the invisible part of me has escaped. I don't know where I've gone. And I'm furious that I wasn't able to go with it; instead I've been left with the body that I'd readily abandon in a heartbeat just to be free. I call myself back. I plead. I beg. Where have you gone? Please come back. Where are you? Are you safe? Can I come with you? Come back to me.

Sometimes, I'm stuck. I shut down. I wonder why I am where I am, why I've allowed myself out of the house...when clearly I'm in this ridiculous phase during which I'm a complete basket case who, admittedly and with much chagrin, cannot feel safe even in completely normal situations. I feel as alone as I am inside. I feel outside. I do not feel real; I am not real. I curse this ball-and-chain body that is weighing me down and preventing me from simply dissolving into the dim light and the barstools and the thick air.

I don't exist. I can't exist. None of this is real.

And looking at the rest of the picture, it's glaringly obvious. I'm scared of everything right now. 

I'm terrified.

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