I always found it curious, in the past, that suicide rates are higher in the spring. Now I get it.
I am not ready to re-enter the world. I am not ready to go back to the schedule I had prior to the pandemic. By ‘not ready,’ I mean that just the thought of re-engaging is causing me increased physical anxiety. I mean that I am having trouble with panic before and as I walk out the door go places. And I basically only go three places right now, and those weekly.
And it isn’t just that my body will need time to catch up to the data when it’s actually “safe” to return to life, though that is a real and pressing issue. The “bigger” issue (can they even be rated?) is that I am already having so much trouble with living, and everyone’s excitement and agendas centered around nicer, warmer weather and plans for outings and vacations and summer and (*insert whatever people are doing and saying*) feels very much like pressure to perform for me. Friends are exhibiting a joy that’s been dormant for much of the last year, and I cannot relate. Family is talking excitedly about potential plans and desires, and I feel like I cannot breathe. It’s not unlike those dreams where I’m trying to run and can’t move, or trying to scream and absolutely nothing comes out. I am the scream that won’t come out. I am the legs that can’t move – that aren’t even there on the body in the dream. No legs. No voice. (Aaaaand I totally see the trauma response expression there …… freeze response …… powerlessness – real or perceived …. voiceless ……… )
The nicest days this last week have made me feel uncomfortably vulnerable and almost panicked. I don’t want to go outside even to care for my furry friend. I’ve never been like this before that I recall. I have never especially loved spring, but I have not in my memory ever felt threatened by it. I do feel threatened by it. It reminds me of my abusive caretaker, forcing me to go outside regardless of how I actually felt about going out. Regardless of whether I was ready or not, interested or not, willing or not. I feel so much pressure from everyone else’s glee and anticipation and planning. Friends are starting to text about getting together, and each text of that sort is like a surprise (bad) bolt of electricity that goes through my body. I actually got electrocuted once, and this feels similar, mentally/emotionally.
I know I don’t have to say Yes to the plans and offers. I know I can (and need to) stay in my lane and not feel like I have to do what everyone else is doing. I know that I have the right and responsibility to choose and to set and keep healthy boundaries. I know. But it feels like this: I’ve been floating on a raft, my feet hanging over the edge into warm, relatively clear and safe water. I don’t want to be in the water, but this version is manageable and I have adjusted to being here. But now, suddenly, everyone around me who was also floating is now starting to paddle and splash and abandon their raft and swim, etc. And that doesn’t mean I have to follow suit, but it does mean that the water around me has suddenly ceased to be calm and manageable. In real life, I have sensory processing issues, so things like being splashed in a pool are actually quite dis-regulating for my nervous system. It feels to my skin like a sudden blast of extraordinarily loud music or interference from microphone feels to your ears. Unwelcome. Unsettling. Startling. And that is how the nicer weather and other people’s feelings about it is feeling for me; startling. Unwelcome. Unsettling.
People are pointing out hope, and new life. I am continuing to wrestle intense despair, and grief. The hope talks and posts are, currently, like a bright flashlight in the eyes of someone asleep in the deep dark. The inability to connect to the sense of hope, to the inspiration of nature and new life that is literally bursting before my eyes …….. it adds to the heavy longing to just hit the OFF switch. It is, in the truest sense of the word, unbearable.
Why do I have to want to clean my baseboards or have a party just because the thermometer is different and there is increasingly more light in a day? Why am I supposed to magically be no longer grieving just because the crocuses are breaking through and buds are giving birth to blossoms?
I don’t feel normal. I am already painfully aware that I am not like those around me, and I already feel alone. Not being able to connect to something that (it feels like) everyone around me is excited about just makes me feel that much more alone, that much more broken, that much more hope-less.
For today, it’s rainy, and I am grateful, because no one expects me to be something I can’t be. For today, other people feel more like I do, and I can breathe a little easier. For today, I feel slightly insulated from the tyranny of spring. For today, oddly enough, the ideation is slightly less intense. Other people – “normal” people – feel crappy today because of the weather, so …. no flashlights in my eyes today. No splashing today.
I’ll have to figure this all out again tomorrow when the weather and people’s plucky attitudes return to their full spring pageantry. For now, I will sip my coffee and pretend I have only today to manage.
Anonymously Open 