Tired now. Amanda’s funeral is Thursday. Last night I didn’t sleep at all. Got a few hours today after going to bed at 9am. Fragile and hurting, overwhelmed by waves of sadness. Today I can’t be the diplomat, can’t bridge the gap between myself and others, think through their perspective and mine and find a way to connect them. I do this a lot. Some days I’m just too exhausted.
Lay in bed last night with someone inside me begging to be allowed to self harm. Intense and distraught. Self care become alien, painful even, unsettling, impossible. It takes all day to talk myself into breakfast, having a shower.
Woke up tangled in grief and anger and frustration and called lifeline instead of venting on friends or in any public spaces. Struggling to navigate pain and vulnerability in the context of a community. Are we not all on some level alone with our pain? It’s not easy to face our limitations. I’m under no illusions that if Amanda had only reached out to me, she’d have been okay. What then do I believe?
Some days it feels to me that how I manage my pain alone at 3am is then brought before my world at 10am for judgement. We can’t always be there for each other. (and yet we say it, we need to believe it, need to extend hands of friendship over the chasm and hope they will never lean on it too much for us to bear) Trying to understand the chill in my heart, the way my bones grow cold. Is it me, or them, or all of us? I hate myself. I can’t let love in, but indifference and disdain I eat off the floor. I’m lost. Trying not to need, not to lean, not to bleed out, not to disconnect, lash out, break everything apart, walk away from it all.
I’ll find a way through, but tonight I’m lost.