Warning: basketful of crazy
My mind feels like clear soup and I can feel my Armored Trust Issues coming back in force, marching in over the walls and trampling a few fields while they're at it. I'm re-weaponizing and retreating again. I can feel myself fading into something... old. Because I'm frightened, and I don't have anything to depend on me. I don't have anything to build right now.
I'm also dependent on fish oil to keep my brain working "normally" and my experiences mostly attached to reality. I haven't taken it for a couple days at the moment, so my referential problem-solving network is fucking around and failing to turn mental metaphors and idea synesthesia into comprehensible text. Now it feels like I'm floating again and my little ticcy symptoms are coming back. Anxiety, paranoia, feeling like I want to crush myself into a little crystal sculpture and hide it somewhere safe where it can't interact with anyone and no one can stab it again.
I took some of the stuff so now maybe the problem will disappear over the next couple of days, but I have this odd fantasy, you see, and suddenly that has become almost the most important thing in the world--because my mind has forgotten how to prioritize (or maybe this is just a picture of my mind and the translator broke. Again, I'm left eaten by an inability to connect. I'm tired of this). I'm sitting in an empty room at a table in a straight-backed chair painted white, wearing a lot of clothing. Skirts to the ankle, thick jacket, long-sleeved shirt buttoned all the way up, boots laced the right way with double-knots and a good bit of polish. I'm sitting there and the thing that strikes me is the firmness of the chair, the stillness of the room, and the way the shadows touch my fingers as they rest on the table. It is all so silent, despite the rain, and everything is so clean. There is a window but no door. I cannot bear to look out the window, but I know it is there. I don't know if I have a face or not. If I have a face, I want to hide it. The features bother me--suddenly, I can't stand my old and familiar features. It would be easier if I were old; then I could look myself in the eye and feel a little bit better about things. But my face bothers me, because it does not belong to me. My face has never belonged to me. Ever since I was a little girl, I have looked at my face and it was not my face.
I don't know what I expect to see. Blankness? But I look at my face and it is always wrong, and no one ever seems to understand this.
I have recurrent dreams of being abandoned, night after night after night as I begin with someone by my side and by the end of the dream, they have walked away. Sometimes it's Rosewood. Sometimes it's Thyme, and sometimes it's Vetch, and sometimes it's Ebony disappearing over and over again, leaving me alone. It just... keeps happening... just as it's always happened in real life, again and again.
Before I dated Rosewood, I had dreams about a man shockingly like him, for four years. He protected me and kept me safe--this sort of warm and gentle presence that held me and took care of me as I slept. No matter how bad things got, he was always there. Now he's gone, and I have only nightmares.
I don't know what to say. This is probably just a chemical imbalance. But my head is out to get me again, and it kind of sucks.
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Topic: Things that made you sad today thread. (Read 9742422 times)