My first post on here and it’s on a somewhat uplifting note. Circumstances are under par, yes, I’m drinking shitty wheat vodka in a (near) stranger’s basement, alone, and I don’t know if things will ever be truly good again. I’m homeless, my anxiety is getting worse, money is running out. But, but, but: my head, always repeating positives. Probably leftovers from therapy, a nagging voice I tried desperately to build into my head (suggested by my psychologist, I thought it useless then but tried nonetheless) and it seems to have worked. Homeless, BUT: at least I have a place to stay tonight. There’s food in my stomach. Alone, for now, but not always. Not even usually. I’m socializing more, even though the anxiety is so bad. Self-hatred suffocatingly present, but I can still manage to get words out, sometimes. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe. The stalker from my past is scrambling now, unaware of where I am. Hell, I don’t know where I am half the time. But I’m safe. He can’t find me.
Some might say it’s pathetic, but always, I take what I can get. This is what I’ve got. I can write, I can get drunk, I can play nostalgic retro games and smoke until it’s daytime and I’m too scared to face the world again. I do not want to kill myself, though I did just 6 hours ago. These shifts are unwavering and sudden, but I’m grateful. I’m doing my best, trying my hardest. Maybe that’s all I can do. Maybe that’s all anyone can do. The world is a cruel, unforgiving place, but I’m carving out little pieces of – not happiness, not quite, not yet – but okay-ness. Things are imperfectly but, for now, sufficiently… okay. My brain will always ruin it eventually, always blow problems out of proportion and I will feel the world crumble and end inside and outside of myself but I’m counting my positives, few as they are. Things are okay. I am okay. I’m safe.
This will end, as it always does. Just as the depression, eventually, always, gets a short respite, this too shall pass. I will dig holes and live in them until the world stops seeming so fat with danger. I will not sleep, the panic will set in, and everything will shed its rose-tinted appeal. But… but, I think I’ll just drink some more, now, and try my luck for a better mood. May you find your pieces of okay-ness to cherish while you can. Sometimes, despite the fear, it’s worth the risk to find those small treasures that somehow, amidst all the ugliness, manage to push you into a nook heavy with a feeling of teetering contentment. I can only hope yours is just around the corner, or with you always, even if sometimes you forget to notice.
Au revoir.
2 comments
I hope you keep that voice that reminds you of the positives even if they are few. And maybe oneday things will become amazing.
You are not hopeless or unreasonably fearful. We all need some form of security in this volatile and dangerous world. How you do it, survive from day to day, is amazing to me.
May you find a steady job of some kind and a secure place to live. From there you can work toward more security, more autonomy. It can take years, but it’s a great goal to have and a lifesaver to achieve.
You might start out in a restaurant where you are assured of food. I lived on what I called ‘buss pan buffet” for a time, eating the scraps left by customers. Then got a job in a better restaurant in which dinner was part of the perks. I bought a used mobile home in a mobile home part, saved my money, then bought land.
Now I own 3 acres of forest, live in a double-wide, all paid for. I have my space. Not much money, but all I need, except for travel.
Yet, I have my own space. Such a blessing.