(no subject)

[cyrano]

Today was not a great day to be tested. I hadn't slept. I spent the night awake enough to be aware of my surroundings but still have it infested by dream elements. And not happy dream elements. So I started the day off almost at empty. And then the heat. And the migraine. And the opossums. God, the opossums. They're adorable, but they're squirmy and bitey and it's hot and the smell. So when I got home, I was prepared for a cold shower and a nap. Or maybe just bed.

But that was before I became a suicide hotline. For somebody who didn't want one, and danced that line between pushing everything away and wanting to be chased and saved. Don't use suicide guilt to try and make me dance. Because that shit is fucked up, and I don't appreciate it. And I can't afford to let myself get dragged under trying to pull somebody else out. I'm not a lifeguard. But I can't walk away, either. And as long as there's a chance you're acting on good faith then... I'm going to try and keep you as safe as you'll let me. I'm a bad choice because I've been there, and I'm weakened by it, and I have the scars to prove it. I'm an excellent choice, because I've been there. And I think they can smell that on me.

I wouldn't do anything differently. But I'm glad this doesn't happen every day.
And I'm not even getting out of bed tomorrow.

Comments

[ivy]

Oh no, I'm sorry that you had such a rough day. You did well, hang in there. Is there anything we can do to be supportive of you?

[cyrano]

Knowing that you're here is good. Having someplace I can go and complain that this is hard, and know that I'm heard, that's helpful.

[cyrano]

It was weird--I knew I felt awful, like I'd been run over by a truck, but it was difficult putting words to the things I was feeling, that were physically wrong with me. I just knew things were wrong. And when I got home from possum rehab, Amanda looked at me and immediately sent me to my room.