i hate that no harm contract. it's just a fucking piece of paper with my fucking signature on it but i have imbued it with disproportionate powers. how else to explain the overwhelming urge to cut or to fuck and not following either of them? how else to explain the lust i have for just one moment of relief and yet leave myself aching and empty? without it i could let the euphoria take me and be released from this restless state. instead my breathing is quick and i'm shaking. my only lifeline a fucking pill that will insulate me from what i'm feeling. and where does the feeling go? off into oblivion? would that it were so. no, the feeling flows out sluggishly, an emotional tidal surge returning to its source. and the source, well it stays. hungry and wary, awaiting the next opportunity to rush in. no stealth, no finesse. just an assault meant to crush and punish. i stand alone with just a fucking piece of paper to save me. a contract signed to deny the demons inside me from having their way. i ache to take it back. i long to let the demons out to play so the landslide of temptation could sweep me along. if not for one stupid, fucking piece of paper, i could feel sane right now.
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why is it that when i desperately need someone to talk to, no one is available? can you explain that to me please? NOW is when i could really benefit from someone listening to me but no, everyone is either on the wrong coast or has gone to bed. FUCK. and now i have to update my fucking no harm contract. no, i didn't harm myself so i'm still safe. however, if i continue to get behind the wheel of my fucking car when i'm fucking irate i will end up in a fucking accident. at this point, i could care less. i'd rather slam into the median than feel this way. BECAUSE GUESS WHAT? I'VE BEEN THERE DONE THAT, REMEMBER? I'M STILL BOTTLING THINGS UP, STUFFING THEM DOWN, KEEPING THEM HIDDEN BECAUSE I'M NOT ALLOWED TO LET THEM OUT. AND GETTING OUT OF MY GODDAMN HOUSE WON'T CHANGE THAT. I'M TRADING ONE STIFLING ENVIRONMENT FOR ANOTHER. FUCK ME! AND YOU WANT ME TO CARE ABOUT COMING CLOSE TO 6 MONTHS INJURY FREE. WHY?
WHY THE HELL SHOULD I? IT'S NOT GOING TO COMFORT ME AS I GO TO SLEEP TONIGHT. IT'S NOT GOING TO MAKE ANYTHING EASIER.
I'M STILL GOING TO HURT SO FUCKING
MUCH THAT I CAN'T SEE STRAIGHT.
I'LL STILL HAVE A LITTLE GIRL INSIDE ME CURLED UP INTO A BALL, SOBBING AND SOBBING. SHE'S ALL ALONE IN THERE AND I CAN'T FUCKING HELP HER BECAUSE I'M TOO GODDAMN ANGRY. i'll still be inches away from giving into a tantalizing madness that ony i can see. and why not? the illusion of it is far more comforting than the reality i've made for myself.
and this is only the beginning, brian. if it's this bad now, how bad will it get? what about when it's like this for days on end? how will i cope then? how the hell am i supposed to do this alone? because no matter how much you or my family or my friends help me, bottom line is that it is my choice to stay safe. mine and mine alone. sometimes i choose to be safe for myself, sometimes i choose to be safe for someone else, sometimes i choose to be safe because of my contract. will the day come when none of that is enough? will the day come when i will be out of reasons to stay safe? will the day come when the reasons to stay safe don't matter as much as the reasons not to stay safe?
what i wouldn't give for a razor right now. i know exactly how it would feel and i wouldn't be dependent on anyone for that relief. I WOULDN'T BE DESPERATELY NEEDING TO TALK TO SOMEONE. instead of spending the last fifteen minutes writing this fucking e-mail, i would be calm, worn out, expended. i crave that feeling more than you can possibly imagine. BUT I'M FUCKING CHAINED TO THESE FUCKING FEELINGS THAT ARE EATING AWAY AT ME. WHEN THEY ARE DONE, WHAT WILL BE LEFT? HOW MUCH OF ME WILL WAKE UP WHOLE AND SANE TOMORROW? HOW MUCH OF ME WILL RETREAT IN SELF-DEFENSE?
BECAUSE RIGHT NOW IF I RETREATED FULLY I
WOULDN'T FUCKING CARE!
but tomorrow i'll have to wake up and paste a smile on my face for the world to see. meanwhile, behind my eyes will be a torrent of emotions that i do not dare acknowledge for fear they will blow my mind wide open. i'm not exaggerating either. you probably think i am but i'm not.
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my friend brian and i went to the gym today. after a lovely workout, yes i said lovely, we went to the back 40 and laid on the grass. flat on our backs, watching the clouds go by, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine. for me, it was good for my sore back and my heart, mind and soul. brian summed it up better when he called it "peaceful comfort". something he and i both miss, need, crave right now.
but why does peaceful comfort have to be an endangered species? rarely glimpsed and achingly elusive. so very hard to capture. and once caught, you realize she is nothing more than a gossamer wisp that melts in your hands. nothing to hold, nothing to carry. you end up letting her go without really realizing you had her in your grasp. all you can do is weep at what was. and then you hurt so fiercely from the lack you hunt for her as if you would prey. only to realize she isn't something that can be stalked or cornered. she cannot be leashed or caged. you wait patiently, quietly, hoping to lure her with your immobility. because then you will humble yourself at her feet and beg her to stay. pray that she lets you curl up next to her and bask in her warmth. for those few moments, let her hold the world at bay so you can rest.
all too soon, she is ready to leave. you let her go because you finally realize she is not yours to force. she will come when she will. and then, then you will weep with relief because she graced you with her presence. you will silently scream for the joy of being whole. and you will endeavor to etch her into your memory so you can conjure her up as you would any other happy memory.
but it never really works out that way. somehow peaceful comfort is only real when you are in her midst. once she fades to the background, it's as if she never was. she's a willow-the-wisp that dances teasingly out of vision.
maybe someday i can tame her. then again, perhaps not. as i said, she is a wild thing not easily caught. for now, i'll lie in wait. i'll approach her gently, reverently. and maybe, just maybe, she'll let me lie against her. let me cry into her soft embrace and for a brief moment, be free.
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hush now
whisper low
he's right here
you've no where to go
you have no strength
for you to be safe
he's every where
and no place
you are but a shadow
he has weakened you
can't see you weep darkly
tears bright and new
your will frightened
just as you feared
he'll be your nightmare
as night draws near
no protection for you
craving a vampiric kiss
soul-sucking oblivion
born in the bloodiest abyss
you scream in your mind
holding still
paralyzing yourself
what will you will
he raped you bare
violated from within
yet you want to sacrifice
for him your skin
give over your body
to make his dominance complete
bleed your surrender
in defeat
yet he'll not stop
there will be no cease
and you'll not rest
you'll have no peace
yes he is here
you have no where to go
if you whisper and hush
he won't know
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she starts the day
calm and blissful
not a thing going on
expecting nothing unusual
in the blink of an eye
her world starts to shake
she's at the center
of an emotional earthquake
the initial jolt
splits her heart
the jagged chasm
tears her apart
divided in two
she loses her ground
has no anchor
gets tossed around
when the upheaval
finally ceases
she looks all over
to find her pieces
bits of herself
strewn and scattered
she finds it difficult
to see why she matters
she wants to stay broken
lay in the debris
of her crushed emotions
a soiled dusty sea
but she finds strength
to stand up tall
won't allow disaster
to make her small
she'll take the rubble
that is herself
and rebuild again
beauty from hell
she's done this before
and will do it again
won't allow tragedy
to do her in
she'll be stronger
for having survived
a resilient inhabitant
in her very own life
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the knot in my stomach twists and curls. tighter, ever tighter, and tighter still. wrapping each nerve, pulling each muscle. my entire body is overtaken by the struggle.
i crave and desire what i am not to have. no more cutting for me. it's forbidden, taboo, politically incorrect, socially undesirable. i don't give a damn. i have never, never wanted anything so much in my life. nothing. i'm paralyzed in place except for my mind. racing, it paces back and forth. rummaging through my rabbit warren of thoughts. looking for the weaknesses, finding them easily.
i want to give in and drop to my knees with a sigh of relief. give in and feel the rush, the bliss, the ecstasy. quiver with the exquisite pleasure that only a razor blade can give me. no other experiences have ever come close. yet i am banished to the realm of alternatives, substitutes, diversions, distractions. my puppets. my false idols. imitations of the shadows of my reality. but no fantasies for me for fear the line between truth and lies will blur.
do not believe the truth of the lie emma, you say. why shouldn't i? the lie of the truth hurts so much more right now. fight the pain, emma. why should i? the pain is agonizing, the fight is wounding. let me lay down and give in. winning is not in my nature. i concede and compromise, let me do so. i'll willingly surrender. so much easier that way. and why not? you would too if you knew defeat would give you the rush, the bliss, the ecstasy.
i would gladly lay beneath the guillotine and look to the sky. i would welcome the anguish and would look her in the eye.
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emma hugs her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth on the floor. this is more than i can bear today. i don't know what to do. with her face buried in her knees, emma knows she must do something or she will never get up. all i have to do is pick up the phone. her lifeline of salvation sits next to her with a number perfectly poised to be relayed from tower to tower until it reaches help. i just have to push send and i won't be alone. amazingly and seeming to act of its own accord, her hand reaches for the phone and suddenly the number is no longer poised. it is an arrow loosed and aiming for the target. bull's eye! "hi, it's me. emma. i'm really not doing well right now and i just need someone to talk to. do you have some time?" "anything for you, you know that. what's going on, emma?" emma takes a breath and tells all. the pain and the hurt finally burst to the surface and spill out in healing tears. her savior gathers each drop to be wrapped in a coccoon of empathy, like a swaddled baby, and slowly emma feels safe and warm. "thank you. you don't know what this means to me" "you're welcome, emma. you can call me anytime." "bye. and thanks again." for the longest time, emma doesn't move. paralyzed? frozen? she doesn't know. when she finally does move, she realizes in suprise that she's still hugging her knees. her lifeline of salvation still sits next to her with a number perfectly poised. i just have to push send and i won't be alone...
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i was inspired by my friend john to share this poem when he asked for input about legal (and illegal) drugs on his latest blog (johnsmulo.com). myself, i have a love/hate relationship with medicine. on the one hand, it allows me to be as close to emotionally normal as i can right now. on the other, i have to have it to be even remotely emotionally normal. one part blessing, one part curse. but i take my medicine every day without fail. i will most likely take it every day without fail until i die. for without the blessing of medicine, i would be cursed to live a half-life that would not be worth living. some days i'm just not sure how i feel about that.
Pill
seek where you want
look where you will
the key to me
is locked in this pill
blessing or curse
you must decide
knowing some of me
is found inside
my best or my worst
you tell me
is it my chain
or does it set me free
a burden too bare
or one to withstand
what do i hold
inside my hand
it may be medicine
but it feels addictive
the only means i have
to be somewhat self-restrictive
what would happen
without this key
the one that locks away
bits and pieces of me
i don't want to know
uncertainty is pain
so i let a drug
be my rein
i'll take it willingly
until i die
so i might not believe
my countless lies
mask the half
that shouldn't be seen
try never to create
any sort of scene
you won't find my soul
thought you look quite hard
because the pill you see
has become my heart
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a note to my therapist:
So, the thought crossed my mind that I would be better off dead. All that is necessary for living life is just too much for me. I don't know when I finally broke under the pressure of that, but I did. And right now, I can't even be bothered to care. I honestly don't. I should probably be concerned that I am that numb but I really don't care right now. If I could crawl away and hide, I would.
Who I am may make a difference to you, to my friends, and to my family. I'm sorry to say this but that is not enough for me to stop believing that I don't need to be here. I think the key is that who I am must make a difference to me and it just doesn't. It's not enough to know that you all need me to be here. At the end of the day, I need to need me to be here.
That being said, I will reassure you that I am not suicidal nor do I have a plan.
thus was a beautiful morning in april started. i was having such a hard time finding reasons to be here. to be in this life. to be on this planet. fortunately, i was to be given one very suprising reason.
weeks earlier i had asked my friend brian to take me for a ride on his harley. i don't know why i asked him to do that since i definitely enjoy the closed in feeling of a car. and the seatbelt. and the air bags. if you want to find a cautious, safety-comes-first gal, I'm her. but brian was so very passionate about his motorcycle. he actually owns three in all, and he gets the biggest grin on his face when he talks about riding. i swear that man is happiest when he's defying road rash by speeding down the road or zipping in and out of traffic or leaning the bike over farther than should be possible on some insane curve. if you met him, you would definitely not peg him for a thrill junkie. does not fit the stereotype. pretty much defies it. he is infectious though. he must be because hearing him describe how much fun he has and seeing him smile like a little kid on christmas convinced me to give up the safety of a perfectly good five-star crash-test rated car for the possibility of my own layer of road rash.
it just so happened brian was finally taking me for a ride on that same sunny april morning. the morning i was questioning whether i made a difference to myself. the morning i was so numb that i wasn't sure i would find my way out. i had even convinced myself that i wasn't going to go. but then he rode up. he simply asked "do you still want to go", and i found myself saying "yes". i dutifully suffered through putting on a helmet that squished my cheeks like a maniacal grandma. i endured the humiliation of being buckled into it like a little kid. i put on the extra pair of gloves brian thoughtfully brought, and we were ready to go.
apparently that yes my mouth uttered turned off any fear factor i might have had because i didn't even hesitate when i got up there behind brian. just threw my leg over the seat, hunched up behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and grabbed two fistfuls of his jacket. after that everything was just surreal. nothing between me and the road and i didn't care. no fear. no hesitation. no reservation. all i felt was pure, unadulterated joy. a very rare thing for me in general and certainly unexpected on a day that began with me questioning the why of my existence.
that ride was amazing because all my senses were on high alert. it was as if every bit of my body was at attention. my face felt the morning sun's heat come through the visor and the tickle of my hair on my forehead. my feet felt the comfortable stability of the foot pegs through the soles of my boots. my calves found just the spot to tuck in tight against the frame and could feel the unyielding metal. my thighs felt the softness of my favorite jeans, the slight pressure of gripping the seat, and the weight of brian between them. my wrists felt the cool wind in the ever-so-small space between where the gloves and my sleeves didn't quite meet. i felt the crush of my chest on brian's back as i tried to tuck myself in tight so i could lean when he leaned. our weight shifting on each turn and curve. the feel of entrusting myself to someone else to keep me safe. abandoning myself to the experience.
and when we finally returned to where we started, i knew for that day i had found one thing to live for. and that was enough for that day. and it might even be enough for tomorrow and the next day and the next and the next and the next.
i've asked brian if he will take me for another ride. i've asked if we can go farther next time. "anywhere you want", he said. i hope we go again because on a sunny day in april i may not have found anything to convince me to need me. but i don't think i'd mind becoming a thrill junkie if it gave me a reason to live for one more day. and one more. and one more. and one more...
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