Right. So anyways….

Oh my many coloured days. *sigh* I’ve been doing pretty well lately (easier to run from things when you have someone to run TO? By which I mean, someone to run to who needs your support a smidge more than you need theirs at the moment. Or. At least. I tell myself that.) But. Yeah. AJ is wonderful, that stuff is all still wonderful. But.

But I went to wally world this morning (eheh. I worked last nite and STILL haven’t gotten to bed…p’raps a reason for the current mental state…) I went to Wally World this morning and was looking for things in the pharmacy. Like deodorant. Body wash. Aleve. Toothpaste. Ya know. Normal things. And then I’m standing there in front of the shaving gels. Which might seem normal. If I didn’t have 2 near-full cans of shave gel already. So I’m standing there knowing I don’t need it. So I keep walking. Hmm. Razor refills for my razor. Don’t need those either. Keep walking. Disposable razors. Don’t need those, have the refillable razor + refills. Keep walking. Oh look. Men’s razors. Oh look! My favourite brand of double edged blades. Sweet stinging silver Schicks. Stop walking. Transfixed. Brain screaming and turning quickly in to mush. I don’t want to be there. It doesn’t want me to be there. So why am I there? Why won’t my feet move? Why am I comparing prices between double and single edged…comparing the effects of both. Single are more than a dollar cheaper, allow me to go deeper, but not as clean a cut. Hurts more tho. Double are more expensive but make exquisitely fine lines if held the right way, so clean and fine that they take several seconds to bleed. Choices, choices. Life is so full of choices.

I had them in my hands. Single AND double. The double are packaged so much more attractively, in that neat little box where they slide out on both ends. Then I looked in my cart and saw ibuprofen. I don’t use ibuprofen, it takes excessive amounts to touch my headaches for some reason. So I use aleve. But AJ had a headache while she was here, and she prefers ibuprofen. So I bought a bottle of the generic, just in case she gets another headache or whatever. Anyways. So. The bottle reminded me of her. And the way she kisses my arm. that arm. Even when I try to pull away from her, she won’t let me. She just holds on tighter and whispers “it’s ok…” in my ear and then kisses my neck and hugs me.

And for a second I thought I can’t… but that was replaced by yes, I can. and i need to. It’s been long, so long. Months. Maybe almost 3 months? I should prolly keep track of such things, but I don’t. But. In the end AJ, short sleeves, J, H, Z, M (my life, alphabetized…)…won out. And I put the razors back. Both kinds.

But the urge is strong.

I didn’t have therapy this week. (That’s not why the urge is strong. At least, I don’t think? Maybe it is? It can’t be tho…I won’t allow it to be.) And I was mentioning to AJ when we talked on Wednesday that it was weird and that I thought I missed it. And she chuckled and was like You? Who’s always trying to get out of therapy?! I know, I know. fucked up.

I’m tired. I worked several days this week. No therapy. Change in hormones, apparently, as evidenced by the arrival of my girlreminder. Getting so shook up by AJ leaving. Ruminating over coming out at work. M being far away physically in addition to mentally. (tho we’ve emailed more this week than we have in a year, ironically.) Trying to be supportive of AJ and her issues. Getting letters about all of the things that need to be done before school stars in less than a month. It adds up. It all adds up.

I cleaned my bathroom last week, before she came to visit. Cleaned out the bottom drawer of the sink cabinet, where all the random bottles of pills and meds lived. Seperated all the meds and such out and put it all in it’s own little tupperware container box thing. So many colours and sizes and shapes. Makes me hungry to eat them all up.

That buzz that had been in my brain…I didn’t notice that it had eased up, until it came back full force. There’s a difference between suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, and actively suicidal. And at the moment, I’m not actively suicidal, not do I plan on being so. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been at least a few times over the past few weeks. Right now I feel like I’ve shoved everything back as far as it can go. I’m still shoving, but there’s no more room, so it’s still pressing on me.

I just need to sleep. If I sleep, I’ll feel better. ?

It’s hard to breathe in here right now, and it’s not even muggy or humid. Actually there’s a bit of a chill in my apt right now. My feet are cold.

Taking blood pressures this morning. Seemed like almost every kid had scars on their arms. I find it interesting that the boys are more self-conscious of it than the girls. At least within this particular group. It gets really cold in the building at nite…I NEVER have to wear short sleeves to work, cuz I’d freeze my arse off. Many nights I have a sweater or jacket on come 4am as well. Anyways. So when people get up, they tend to layer their clothes. Meaning bulky sweatshirts that I can hear pressures thru. So they need to roll them up or take their arm out. The girls for the most part all just do so with very little hesitation. The boys…one of them was new-ish and I thought he was going to cry when I asked him to take his arm out of his sweatshirt. The blood drained from his face and he was like “Why? I didn’t do anything! I promise!!” I had to quick pretend to look for a different stethescope, in order to swallow the lump and blink back the tears that immediately welled in my eyes. Once I composed myself I just kinda squeezed his hand quick before I took his pulse (woulda given him a hug, if it was allowed. And if he wasn’t like, 16 and skittish to the touch…) and was like “Hey, calm down there Mister. It’s ok. I can use the other arm, if you’d prefer…” He definately preferred. The blood came back to his face and I caught his eye. And I hated to, but I asked him to just quick show me his arm (the one he didn’t want to take out of the sleeve). Cuz, his reaction was one of a guilty person hiding a secret. And I had to be sure he hadn’t made any fresh cuts or wounds. “Luckily” I was able to say it was because I needed to make sure his cuts weren’t showing signs of infection, so I didn’t have to make him think that I didn’t believe him when he said he hadn’t done anything. I did believe him, but I had to check cuz I’ve been wrong before. :op There was nothing new. And also no signs of infection. And by the time I finished taking his blood pressure on his arm of choice, he had slipped right back in to his 16 year old self. :op It was only a minute or so of vulnerability. But. Even tho it was *his* vulnerability that was showing, I felt totally vulnerable as well. (Apparently today I am vulnerable to use “vulnerable” as many times as I possibly can in one sentence…)

And earlier there had been Mary’s comment…one of the girls she had to draw blood on this morning put up a small fuss cuz she “doesn’t like needles!” And eventually Mary was like “So you’re telling me you can cut your own arm with razor blades, but you’re afraid of a needle??” Apparently, yes. heh.

I do have therapy on monday. But I’m torn. I want to jump ship again</sup> cuz right now I feel like I’m just way too dependent on it for solace and sanity. Being dependent on things scares me.

Plus there’s also a possibility that AJ will stay thru to Monday, even tho I work on Sunday nite. Cuz she can just sleep while I work and then we can at least spend a few hours together on Monday.

I should sleep. If only to escape the thoughts in my head. *frustratedsigh*