I was taken to the hospital late Monday night and then checked into treatment early Tuesday morning. I washed a handful of pills down with some whiskey and then passed out. When I came to I started cutting on my arm. I told people I tried to die. I'm not sure if that's the truth though. The cuts certainly weren't deep enough and I knew the meds were past their prime. And I wasn't treated for depression, I was treated for anxiety. I just wanted to feel pain. I wanted to watch myself bleed. I wanted to feel control. Too much of my life felt like it was spinning outside my control.
Earlier this month, I received a text from my mother. For most of you, that's probably not too big of a deal. But my last Christmas present from Mom, and sister, was getting disowned. That was probably 6-8 years ago. It brought up many hard feelings. First wave hit me.
Watching a movie. Nothing I don't do on a regular basis. But this movie was something special. This movie was an action flick like no other. Okay, it was exactly like any other action flick. CIA agent, gets sick, offered cure, has to kill people first. You know the story. But about a third of the way in he gets the first injection. And that's what does me in. This is when it's like no other movie I've watched before. The close up of the injection. For that moment I remembered what that needle felt like. I felt it go in, the way the needle brought pain and joy in just a few seconds. And I wanted it! Not the drugs that went with it mind you. Just the needle. I wanted to feel that ritual again. Second wave hit me.
I start to feel the loss of My Alice. Conversations aren't being had. I feel like I'm begging just to know what's going on with her. It's something I should be used to. Alice always leaves Wonderland. She never chooses the Hatter. Third wave hits me.
Carved some new artwork into my leg. Five tally marks to commemorate the Alice's come and gone. The one's I couldn't keep happy, the ones I chased away, the ones that had better options to choose from. The last one cut deep, blood everywhere. And it looked amazing. And it hurt so good. I felt good! Fourth wave hits me.
The kids have been gone too long. I've got weeks to go without them. It seems they're never coming back. It's not a proper party without the the Hare and the Dormouse. Fifth wave hits me.
Got demoted at work. They called it a promotion. But they took me from my section that was really starting to do good and gave me a new section that just really sucked ass. Went from being number 1 in the smalls to the bottom of the bigs. Sixth wave hits me.
And several times this month I didn't sleep for days. I went to bed. I recall closing my eyes. But I also remember being able to look at the clock at least once every hour. Just a whole lot of power naps for a few days here and a few days there. My brain was done trying to work so hard with so little rest. Seventh wave hits.
That was the first 3 weeks of June. 4th week saw me admitted into treatment. And new meds, an anti-anxiety/sedative to help me sleep and process things more clearly. 1st week of July I start therapy. Maybe in July I can keep the ocean away.
