Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Unfinished Thought

I don't have plans or prior arrangements today. Therapy, sure, for 45 whole minutes. That leaves another 23 hours and 15 minutes that I need to keep myself safe. I can medicate myself and pass out early, but what the hell am I supposed to do to stay in one piece until then? Days like today are dangerous, which is why I try to never have them. I haven't had a day without something planned in longer than I can remember and I'm not looking forward to making my way through the long hours until sleep finds me.

I don't want days off. I don't want to rest. I'll rest when I'm dead. Until then I want to be busy and exhausted and on the edge of a breakdown all the time because this is where I am comfortable functioning. Class got out early this morning because I finished my test too quickly although I didn't have all of the answers and I found myself lost. Is that even possible? 8:30 a.m. and already the anxiety had set in as I looked out on the vast expanse of nothingness that lay before me in the coming hours.

Why is a day like today so dangerous? Because it affords me moments and hours to think and when I get to thinking I get to thinking that it might be a good idea to do something destructive because I get to thinking that everyone is lying to me and that I'm worthless. It's counterintuitive to think that I'm worthless, or at least to think that I'm useless when I am being useful and productive. I may not believe that my productivity amounts to much in the grand scheme of things but at least it keeps my mind occupied and focused.

Why do all equations equal self-destruction lately? I haven't thought much about it. It's difficult to see past the urges and the plans and the desires to bleed once they've settled in. Maybe it's because I have nothing left to hurt myself with. I won't let myself binge and purge any longer and some desire to stay in my recovery keeps me from filling a day like today with pedaling long hours into the deserted mountain roads of the San Gabriels. The behaviors may be gone, but the urges are still here, still incredibly loud and still so tempting sometimes that I can't go home where the knives and lighters live and I have to keep my hands busy so that my fingernails don't dig their way into my skin. Car keys and bottle caps become weapons, just like the tip of a pen becomes lethal. The whole world seems to become unsafe in an instant and what can I do but dive into a bottle of pills that are supposed to help me fight off these desires to burn myself alive?

And the doctor tells me that I'm not even supposed to do that, not every time. But which is worse, hurting myself or being addicted to a controlled substance? Neither seems like the best option but I've worked too hard to destroy everything with the tip of a blade and I'm all out of bandages anyway so I guess I'm choosing the lesser of two evils.

My ten-year high school reunion is next year and what do I have to show for the last decade of my life? It's only in the last year that my life in the traditional sense has really even begun. They'll have their degrees and their high-paying jobs, their houses and their families, I'll have my mental illness and a backpack full of pills that sedate me enough to actually interact with them all. This really isn't me. I usually love a challenge, or an obstacle, or a lofty goal, but all of these things in the past have been physical in nature and I knew exactly what to do complete them, overcome them, or achieve them. I have no idea how to win at the game of life.

I guess I'm still recovering from having to say goodbye to the life that I had put everything into building. I hate my sickness for taking my life from me. Where would I be right now had I not been sick? Recovering from last weekend's race efforts? Preparing for the local Wednesday night xc race? Certainly, I'd be on a ride right now, spinning the shit out of my legs, becoming faster, leaner, more beautiful. All of that is gone now and I hate my disease everyday for robbing me of my hopes and dreams. This life that I'm living now still feels like it belongs to someone else and there are many days when I don't want to be living it at all. It felt better for a few months because it was new and exciting and challenged me to grow in different ways, but now it just feels boring and mundane and I swear to god that I can't stand another minute of it.

It's days like today when drastic measures are taken.

No comments:

Post a Comment