I hate the mornings when my mind is in that dark place. When my chest is heavy and tight. When my arms and legs feel like they have turned to lead. All I want to do is lie in my bed and stare into nothingness, hoping that any moment, sleep will give me a slight reprieve from the agony inside.
I tell myself to get up. Listen to the words of people. Just get up. Make yourself get the hell out of bed. So I make it to the side of my bed with my clothes in a pile next to me and I just sit. The clock ticks along. Time goes by, and I am moving in slow motion.
I take my small blade. Put it against the flesh of my thigh. The sharp prick as it first breaks the skin echoes in my mind. I move the blade along. I can’t feel the pain in my leg, but in my mind, it’s like the sound of a diamond on glass. The crystal sound in my dull and slow mind.
I sit between the voices. Not voices in my ears, but the internal plight of myself against myself. One side urges me to move. To get up. Get dressed. And the other, like a hand on my shoulder, whispers in my ear and asks me What’s the point?
I can’t answer that question. I don’t know the answer. What is the point? So I pull up my knees and wrap my arms around them. I am between the two sides of myself arguing, and maybe the only thing I’m going to manage to do today is breathe.
JD Stockholm. 
You have so many people who care about you. There are so many people you help just by existing. So many you have helped and given support to by telling your story. Your life matters. They need you.
Try not to beat yourself up too much about this. Some days, just existing and just breathing can be a major achievement. Do you live with anyone, or have anyone in your life who can be a support for you when you have days like this? I also have days like this. I call them my pyjama party days. I’ll just hang around all day in my nightie. Then when it gets dark, I’ll have a quick shower and just get changed into another, clean nightie. My 26 year old son also has this on a regular basis. To encourage him, I will usually bring him a nice tall cup of coffee and some toast. He has been known to sleep for twice or even three times the recommended number of hours.
Sometimes getting through those moments (those minutes and hours that seem like days) … sometimes knowing that so many people care about you, is enough to get one through. Knowing how many need you. How many support you. Admire you. Respect you. And yes, love you.
Yet I realize that sometimes, some days, it is not enough. Sometimes we falter. As the saying goes, “Just trying, is a lot more than some people do.”
Even though you hurt yourself today, I think that the fact that you’re wrestling with the voices is a good thing. It means you’re fighting and not just relenting to what is easier.
These days will pass. And yes, more will probably follow. Though you think you’re in this alone, as most times you don’t want to reach out to those of us who are only a keystroke away (and some who are closer; how blessed you are, to have Cynthia nearby) and so, you sit, head in your hands, or legs drawn up to you, because you don’t want to “burden” anyone. I get it, (you know I do) yet it makes me so sad.
My hope, is that you keep in mind (but more so in your heart) that you are NEVER truly alone.
You’re doing your best… and that’s all that one can do. Remember?
You’re trying.
You’re fighting.
For you.
And I am proud of you…
no matter what. ღ
Love you.
~ Tight hug ~