Worn

I was on the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline chat late last night. It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. I used to think that such lines were used by people who are literally at *that* crucial moment. What I’ve come to understand is that there are moments before That moment that are, in my estimation, equally crucial. Anne Lamott would call it the moment you “pick up that 200 lb. telephone.” It’s the moment you realize you’re on the extremely slippery slope that leads to That moment. That’s where I was last night ….. one of those moments I knew I was on the slope. Still no plan, but the intensity of my feelings had gained steam. I tried my therapist to no avail, I didn’t want to wake a family member or friend, so … I texted anonymously with a stranger whose job is meeting people in any of Those moments, holding space without judgment or fixes.

This morning I was trying to manipulate fat on various body parts to try to picture that part without that fat. It’s a pattern for me to target my body when my feelings get large. Why feel unbearable pain, or grief, or shame or fear when I can obsess about my weight instead? When my feelings feel too large to tolerate, so does my body. My skin feels like it’s bursting, even though the pain is in my soul.

Yesterday morning, I was at the right place at the right time to be able to help someone in a small way. It felt good to be useful – I’ve forgotten what that’s like. I thought it would shift my funk more. It did not. In the afternoon, I had and jumped on another opportunity, even though I really did not want to move from my spot on this well-weathered couch. But the person needed help, and I had the time – and knew I needed to get out of my head, even if it just meant getting out of the house in the rain and running an errand I didn’t necessarily want to run.

A second time, it felt good to remember the feeling of serving someone else. And, it didn’t shift anything for me. By the time I got home, I was actually exhausted. Neither of the two scenarios took a ton of time, or physical energy. But for me, the energy involved in simply engaging in the conversations needed to accomplish what needed done, and to get dressed, and to leave the house, and to engage in any way publicly – even just through my window and long enough for the kind and energetic employee at the store to put the purchased items in my trunk ……. and even just to drive …….. I am not exaggerating when I say I needed a nap after that, and I’m not a napper. (And no, there isn’t something else wrong; this is what mental illness can look like.)

I am Tired. That’s part of this struggle for me – this space of not wanting to continue down this road of recovery; I am worn out. It’s not “I can’t do this anymore,” it’s “I don’t want to do this anymore.” I’m tired. If you knew what all I’ve been through, and what all I have done to overcome it, this would make more sense and sound less like (perhaps) drama. I don’t think I’m ready to go there on here yet, but the point is mainly that it has been a long, hard road, and I am worn out. I am WORN. OUT.

Now what?

I can’t think about the future, or make plans. Bless the people (including the kind soul on the other end of last night’s chat ….) for thinking it might help me, but – RIGHT NOW – it actually adds to the feelings of overwhelm and hopelessness. So, for now, the work is literally one day at a time. It’s just Today, and not even always that much – sometimes the thought of feeling despair til bedtime when it’s only 7am is much too big an ask. In that case, like today, it’s one cup of coffee. One episode of something. One chapter of something light (on the rare occasion I can focus enough to read). One trip outside with the dog. One hour. Sometimes even just the next 15 minutes. Some days, the way through is literally one right thing after another – and “right” is basically anything that is not acute self harm.

When every activity counts as a unit, I can look at my morning and realize I have gotten through a lot of units already. I’ve had (decaf) coffee, and a refill or two. I have been outside three times with the dog. I have answered an email. I have returned a few texts. I have showered, because soon I will go to an appointment. I have even helped two family members secure their vaccine appointments. I have managed quite a few units this morning, and this helps me remember that – unit by unit – I can make it through the next little while, and the afternoon, and the evening. For now, my next unit is to find a pair of socks. Or, maybe, I’ll sit here a little longer and have my next unit be mindfully enjoying the soft, sleepy dog lying next to me.

This is the work. Today, right now, I will do one unit at a time. Just one. And everything I do that gets me through the day counts as a unit.

Write, and write honestly: one unit – maybe two.

Hit “Publish” on this post: one unit …….