I was able to open up a little today. It has been awhile since I felt like I might completely fall apart inside of a therapy session. I’m grateful for her holding space for me today and continuing to take everything I’ve shared with her and use it to keep the dynamic safe. I don’t feel safe, and I don’t feel trusting. But I can see the effort she’s putting in to shape everything intentionally. I didn’t realize how much everything had built up inside of me. Today kind of relea

I’m not doing good. I don’t know how to climb back to a spot of stability from where I’m at. I feel helpless. I pay to go to therapy $150.00 a week. To be able to afford it I go donate plasma and I still show up and don’t open up. If the money and time commitment isn’t enough of a motivator to get me to open my mouth I don’t think anything will. I feel like I’m just getting worse. All I can do is cry because I don’t see it getting better. Even this writing is starting to feel

Everything feels sullen, damp. It’s a beautiful day, Yet when I reach to interact, my hand presses firmly against glass. Trapping me within the confines of walls nobody can see, not even me. Only felt in moments where attention lingers long enough to notice absence.

Sometimes all that exists is scattered thoughts. Choosing between wine, cigarettes, or things that are worse, yet far more effective at quieting the storm inside of me. This is as close to honesty outside of myself as I can get. I haven’t experienced a storm like this since before adulthood. Adolescence offering me more escape than I can find now. Maybe it was the lack of autonomy that guided me into blank states of nothingness. Maybe it’s because now blank states aren’t so p

If I were being honest, I’d say I feel like I am alone in the world. Like my existence doesn’t matter. And in the grand scheme of things, existentially and philosophically, none of us really matter. But while we are here on earth, I think most of us want to matter to someone. I feel fundamentally destroyed in ways that feel impossible to put back together. Oh, I know. The nihilism is probably tiring. Yeah. I agree. It fucking is. If it’s tiring to read, it’s exhausting to fee

I have therapy tomorrow, and I’m a little stressed about it. Honestly, probably more than a little. Sometimes I get into this headspace where I start questioning why I’m going. I know I need the help. I just don’t know how to actually get the help I need. I don’t know how to explain it very well. I think part of the problem is that I don’t know how to be vulnerable enough to get past a certain point. I feel stuck. One of the things that stresses me out is the question that us

Content Note: This poem speaks openly about suicidal thoughts and the weight of living with them. I have studied attempted suicides the way historians study history. When your mind circles something long enough, you start looking for patterns. You learn the mistakes people made so you can avoid them. None of the bridges in my state are tall enough to guarantee breath stops when the falling does. I was young the first time I started researching this. Before national hotlines w

I still think about you. Daily. Some days I cry more than others. Because you are the kind of person people don’t forget. The kind that leaves a deep mark on the heart. The kind that presses memories into the mind like a stamp that never fades. My heart and my body hold the truth of that. My eyes once witnessed a passionate and gentle soul. And now I am left with memory, imprints on my heart that surface without warning, grief rising around me like I am living the day I walke

I type and erase, over and over, because everything feels so overwhelming right now. There are things I can’t talk about. Not here. There are things I can’t really talk about anywhere. I kind of feel like I’m falling apart, and I can’t catch the pieces in time. I keep having the urge to throw things out. To organize everything around me. I know that’s probably my way of trying to feel in control of something. Because right now I don’t feel in control of anything. I don’t thin

Sometimes I feel like a plant that should’ve been pulled when it was small. Like the gardener saw the leaves and knew right away, that one’s wrong. Not the kind you nurture. The kind you pull up by the roots before it spreads. But somehow I stayed in the soil. And now I’m here, grown where I wasn’t meant to grow, still standing in a place that feels like it would’ve been better if I’d just been uprooted early.

You know how in horror movies, when someone is abducted and kept in a house, it’s always a locked door that leads down to a basement, which leads to another door, which leads to a long dimly lit hallway, and then to another door where the person actually is? And then every so often in those movies, the person who was abducted manages to escape the room. They make it through the hallway, up out of the basement, and to the front door of the house. Sometimes they even make it a

I am having a hard time accepting how I feel because it feels destabilizing to feel attachment. It’s manageable in the sense that I am not feeling overwhelming attachment. It kind of lingered on my drive home, and then I passed out once I got home. Besides feeling nauseous about it, I haven't actually been feeling attachment pain. I know my mind is trying to act like it isn’t there, because I keep thinking, well, if I don't feel anything right now then it must mean those feel

I’m having a lot of uncomfortable emotions right now. Mostly being able to feel some attachment forming and I don’t like it and I don’t want it. Because of the frame she works from, it’s important I bring it up next session to stay ahead of it. And I think this feeling is triggering something deeper. I think it’s grief. I’m not really sure. Definitely fear. I’m scared. I’m really scared for this to matter to me… and if I’m being honest with myself, I think she mattered befor

I took two Klonopins before bed and after about an hour I was zonked out. Slept through the night, blessed be. (I’m not religious, I just love mocking the lines from The Handmaid’s Tale.) Getting my ass up and out of bed was harder this morning than yesterday, but that’s okay. I’m grateful for the sleep. I’m excited about being able to roll out of here at 12 and have nothing but music and fresh air for two hours and then therapy at 3. I do need to do some sort of prep work be

I just got home. My eyes feel heavy, but I already know I’m probably not falling asleep without medication tonight. I’m going to wait to take it though. If I take it now, I’ll be up at some ridiculous hour staring at the ceiling, wide awake and annoyed. I showed up for the meeting today completely forgetting it was canceled. What a lovely surprise.(genuinely) I did not have the brain power to engage in a conversation about a book I don’t find very engaging so far. It’s not th

Zombie mode has officially kicked in. Not so much in my mind, my brain is actually functioning, but my face looks like I am either dead or so zooted I can’t function. If you can picture the most tired, half-chuckle there is, that’s what happened when I typed the word zooted. I genuinely won’t be surprised if they randomly drug test me next week. I’m not high, my guys. I’m just super fucking tired. I really want to skip this meeting. I won’t... but I want to. And for some reas

I’m meeting with my therapist in person for the first time since we started working together. I’m anxious about a few things. The last time I went to the city she works in was a year ago for a doctor’s appointment, and I remember how much grief it brought up. I know my need to think of everything preemptively probably causes more pain than it would if I just lived. But this morning, on the way to work, I started thinking about the grief that came up on my way home from that t

I’m in a weird headspace right now. I’m okay. I can function, which has been nice because it’s been a while since I felt like I had any ability to do more than just get through the day. In the same breath, I’m struggling in a different way. I don’t really know how to put it into words, honestly. I don’t feel like having conversations, and I’m strangely in tune with my body sensations right now, which I’m not a fan of, because they’re mostly panic-associated sensations or jus

I’ve felt pretty stable today mentally. My body is just deciding to give me trouble. Well, not trouble, but I guess I’m feeling things more somatically today. I’ve been having bouts of struggling to breathe, but I think it’s just anxiety. I was going to go to a drag show tonight, but I don’t think I have the bandwidth to leave my house. Being stuck in my head is definitely a more distressing experience than feeling this low-level panic, but it’s definitely not fun either. It

I headed out of work early today. I went to try to donate plasma, but my heart rate was too high. That happens often. I still haven’t figured out what causes the days where it’s between 110–125 at rest. Anyway, after that I headed back home and napped. Maybe I haven’t been getting good sleep? Before my nap I felt like I was getting sick. After, I felt better. I’m at a weird spot in therapy right now, where I don’t know what direction is going to be most helpful, and talking a