Where am I?

When I opened my eyes this morning I actually had a brief moment of light. Not happiness per se, but a weird sense of relief. As impulsive as I felt yesterday, I had told myself just wait. When I saw that first bit of light, I was glad I had made that choice. I know I am buried under this pile of shit right now. Yesterday was a rough day, as was last week and the week before that and the week before that. There reaches a point when even the strongest just can’t cope. I might be strong, but it just seems so fucking big. I still don’t understand why my mind works the way it does. Why is suicide there? When did it arrive as an option in my mind? I know I was quite young. Is there a reason? Some aspect of my personality? some flaw? It is such an awful insidious thing. Like some tiny dark seed that sits there untouched year after year. Occasionally throwing up a shoot from the depths. I am never without it. It comes to me uncalled for. Why does it? I don’t want this. I don’t want to see these images that play silently at the backs of my retinas. I don’t want to think of the aftermath, and the eventualities. I hate this, all of it. I don’t want it. There is nothing soothing in this now. Once yes, but now it is not. I talked about being miserable, not depressed. But I was wrong. I know looking at it now, I am depressed. The lack of appetite, the weight loss, the not giving a shit. Not wanting to play polo. Distancing myself from everyone around me. These are all red flags. I just brushed them aside. Talked myself into thinking it was just the stress. Or is it stress? I don’t fucking know anymore- what is me, in my mind and what is external. It all blurs. I don’t know what those around me see. I am not sure what this looks like from the outside. I am adrift and disconnected from everyone. I know I have to open my mouth and communicate, but I find my self mute. No words come. Nothing but silence. I don’t know why I am not suicidal today. I don’t know where it went, or when it will come back. As quickly as it rose up in my mind, it has vanished. I was honest with Beatrice today when she asked me. I was not suicidal. I can sense it there in the background, but I am not inundated by images and thoughts. I take it as positive I awoke glad to be here this morning. There is hope in that. I don’t know how to keep it all at bay, while we sort thru all this stuff. I have confidence that I can, especially with the seroquel. Somehow it takes that racy edge off it. It seems to make things better. I know Beatrice and Virgil probably want me in the hospital, but I will not consent to that. I am not willing to change the meds again, or have them fry my brain like they so seem to quickly jump to. It won’t matter. Nothing here is changeable right now. Short of miracles. it is what it is. I just have to put one foot in front of the other and somehow get thru each hour. I can’t look at it as day by day, that is far too big. Minute by minute and hour by hour. I beat this yesterday, and I will continue to. I’m not ready to give in. I will write what comes to me, good or bad. This is my voice right now. It might be tough, but I will not censor this. I promised myself that when I started this blog. It is me, good, bad and indifferent.


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