quick sand

Last night I sensed a difference. The mood was shifting rapidly. In under an hour the deep despair was replaced by anger and irritability. It was so quick. I didn’t sense it, until after I had already started being nasty. Fighting over nothing. Pushing away. Pulling back, and creating distance. It is more than just irritable. It isn’t just about mood. It is not wanting to let anyone in. As the days of struggle continue I start to get numb. I don’t want anyone near me. This was evident yesterday. I had opened up and let both Virgil and Beatrice know what had happened. It was very hard to do. Beatrice insisted that I let my partner in and tell her where my head was at, and how bad it was. I did not want to do this. I wished to remain in my own private world, alone with the guilt and fear. The suffering and pain belonging to me. The distance last night wasn’t just me. This was coming from my partner also. I know it is hard to hear about this. Even harder to move forward into the unknown. She is afraid, as am I. She has been there when everything has spiraled away. Been there each time to take me to the hospital. She knows. It feels like we are both trying to get across a path, only to figure out midway, that we are in quicksand. Struggling to make it, but terrified to move too much. Knowing that it will just sink us further. We both resort to not talking, not moving. barely breathing. It is silent and strange. Each of us, just feet apart, but it feels like an emotional sahara stretching thousands of miles. It feels uncrossable. We give up. Skirting around the issues. Never joining together to face the danger. I feel lost and alienated. But it is all of my own doing. I am asking her to read my mind. Not ever offering up an explanation. It is so fucking lonely. There has to be a better way. Standing still and hoping for the best doesn’t work. If only I could be honest without being terrified. somewhere in the back of my mind I am scared she will think it is just too much. After all these years of crisis after crisis, will she just throw up her hands and say enough? It keeps me silent. Always worried and almost never sharing what goes on up in my skull.

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