Lie to me if it will ease the pain

Writing. Writing. Writing again….

Why? Is it the Cymbalta? The natural progression of time? The only Socially Acceptable option? The witnessing of another’s breakdown pain?

Words. They have been banging around in my head. But I’ve been unable to catch them. And even when I wanted to…the banging mangled them so. They were indecipherable.

Therapy this week was…well, I wrote about it already. Except the end. Where, after my brain gave up trying to evade it, we tried to just Breathe. It was interesting. I wasn’t avoiding on purpose. As I chattered on and on, I kept thinking to myself just shut up and do it, already….. But then I’d pop on to another topic for a few more seconds. Until “I” got control over “Me” and shut up. And we breathed. Probably only 5 or 6 breaths. But I couldn’t do it. Something in my head freaked out. My heart fluttered, wings beat inside my chest. My thoughts, which to that point had been manageable and coherent (hehe. Or at least, lucid…) were a blur again. And the more I tried to focus on breathing, the more anxious I made myself. And J asked for words. No…she commented that I had made a face or bit my lip or something while breathing. And I realized that the whirling hadn’t been as contained as I thought. And I was scared. I couldn’t explain. And I got angry and just wanted a hug, some safety. And I wouldn’t let myself ask J to come sit with me, even tho I heard myself begging her to. So she sat on the couch and I just wanted to curl up and disappear into the steady sound of her heart beating.

I was thinking about this tonite, as I sat on Em’s bed, patting her back as she sobbed into a pillow. I watched her tears well then gather then slide then plop and I thought I know this pain.

And I sit here, listening to the cat, feeling her breathe against my leg as she sits, wedged into the chair next to me. I sit and I wondered for a minute what she wanted. Well, more than a minute, as she kept jumping up on the chair and ‘bothering’ me, which often means she wants the litter box changed or fed, but there is food in the bowl and the litter is clean(ish). And I suddenly realized, perhaps she just wants love. So I let her nuzzle my hand and I scratched her neck and she settled down next to me, rather than standing on the keyboard in front of me like she had kept doing. And. How daft of me, not to realize. All she wanted was some attention. But she’s quiet now, dreaming her catnip dreams. And I sit here and feel her breathe against me, hear her motor purr. And I see the glint of light reflect off the razor I was just twirling between my fingers.

It is on the desk now. Only out because I just found it while cleaning some papers off, not because I have any desire to use it. I do not. For a change, eheh.

AJ got a new job, up where she lives. And this upsets me. And last week, 2 weeks ago…my first reaction may’ve been to seek out this sliver of silver. This week? P’raps it’s the sound of rain on the rooftop. The lingering feelings from putting M’s kids to bed. The reality of having just spent time in close proximity with someone expressing the urges to hurt themselves and how that made me feel. The Cymbalta. The faith I have in AJ & I’s relationship. The guilt I know I’d feel if AJ ever found out that I’d cut in response to something so closely related to her. The fatigue.

I dunno what it is. But I don’t have the need, right now, to cut. It’s interesting, staring at a razor without wanting to pick it up and use it OR throw it away in disgust. Because I’m not disgusted by it right now.

It is cold in my apt. I should turn the heat up. But I’m afraid of another huge heating bill. But, it is getting cold outside. And I am shivering, even tho I’m wearing jeans and fuzzy socks and a tshirt and a sweatshirt. Maybe I’ll turn it up just a bit.

I love the sound of rain on the roof. It is getting heavier. I am tired. It’s nearly 4am. But. I feel….good. At least, I think I do. I’m not going to analyze it tho. Let it be, they sing. let it be…

i know this pain

immeasurable
in words//
it lashes out//
leaking molecules
of salt and secrets//
of water and wishes//
of hematin and hurt//
leaving behind spots
on pillows//splotches
on skin//both of which
will fade in due time//
meaning only memories//
only an unabating ache
remains//growing until/
2.3.06/4.07am
©pbp