Saturday, May 26, 2012

before the falter

I always feel like I'm living inside that small window of time - between the falter and the fall. Every moment - an anticipation of my fumbling feet, or the state of recovery afterwards. When does it get right?  When do I get right? When do I break even?

Is my brain wired poorly? Am I incapable of reaching the land beyond this foggy confusion? I hope not.

Last night, lamenting my week away from work, which has now passed - I wanted to cry - but I couldn't.  I couldn't release, I couldn't let myself fall willingly; tears might dry on their own, but they don't change anything. Besides, who is to hear my cries? The people around me who are powerless to change anything for me, unable to fix me?

I booked myself an appointment to see my doctor.  I want to talk about coming off the meds.  I'm scared.  I don't know what will happen.  My lows may become deeper, more intricate caves - maybe I won't find my way out of them so easily? Easily? It's not 'easy' now. A momentary thought passed that perhaps my new found 'bravery' has nothing to do with the pills.  I cannot imagine tiny armies are contained within those shiny maroon capsules.  I have to believe that I have learnt some things, I have to believe I am brave, all on my own.

I remember when I first started taking the medication - I noticed how the pills would rise to the roof of my mouth when I took a gulp of water - little buoys that were going to save me.  It's funny, but I don't notice that so much anymore. Maybe because I'm no longer sinking?

This is the part where I tell you this song reminds me of John. I don't know why - but I hate that this beautiful song has a permanent taint.  I am glad to have left him behind me, but sometimes I can't help wanting to glance in the rear-view mirror - just to see if he's waving at me. I hate him for making me waste myself. For that time, I hate myself, for wasting myself - all on my own.

I fear my inability to cry is because I accept where I am, that I accept there is no fighting my reality.  But, I don't want this to be 'it'. Where do people go to figure this shit out? Is there a whole generation of 'twenty-somethings' wandering the Earth screaming "where did it all go wrong?" I sort of hope there is, at least then I wouldn't feel so alone.


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