I Got the Heebie-Jeebie, Heart-Thumpin', Fight-or-Flight Blues

I don't often feel like this, thank goodness, but the past few days I've had it bad. I don't want to read. I don't want to watch shows or movies. I don't want to learn anything new. I don't want to write or talk or laugh. I don't want to do any of the things that usually help me cope, because I am beyond coping right now. I don't want to cry, either, though sometimes I do in spite of myself. I don't feel spiritual. I don't feel hope. I don't even feel like I'm a part of the world. I feel most like a fly trapped in amber.

It's as if my life is made of quicksand and I'm gradually sinking down into it, to the point where, eventually, I will disappear altogether. But I won't be dead. I'll just be there, somewhere under the surface, smothering but never being released by death. Just unable to breathe or break free, forever. And no one will be able to help me because I've disappeared so they don't know they can. I become part of the past, faded and eventually forgotten.

I am unutterably dismal. This level of misery is inevitably dramatic and I apologize for that. I'm being unfair to people who love me. I apologize for that, too. Feeling this way is selfish and egocentric, as all pain is. No excuse. Just reasons.

There's no point to this blog entry. I was thinking maybe putting it into written words would help somehow. I don't know if it's helped me or not.

But I do know what I want to do. I want to go to sleep and stay asleep until things get better. Because, as I told my therapist, at least in my dreams I can walk.

Sorry for the downer. 

I'll keep these in mind: ❤️