I found myself in that place a few weeks ago. That place where I could not go on. My agitation was unmanageable. I could not fix it or stop it or understand why. I wasn’t running from a stressor or event. I could no longer stand my existence.
And I realized late one night that this was the mindset in which I should take myself to the hospital. I was losing control and the danger level was too high. But in that moment I realized I don’t want to be saved. I also realized there was no one I could call, no one who could listen and just be with me in that feeling. No one. I had to do something so I doubled my Seroquel and thankfully (miraculously) felt much better the next day. And when I woke up I finished the thought. It’s not that I don’t want to be saved. I do. I want to be saved from what’s ravaging my body & mind, but not from the thing that’s saving me from the thing no one can save me from. That I don’t want.
It’s been a few weeks. The mindbending agitation has not returned. I feel calmer – more confused. More movements. More colors and creativity. Dissociation. I need to dance and paint the sky. I don’t remember my problems, which is both good and bad. The thing I notice is that I am lonely. And it makes me think a lot about death.
The need in me for comfort is so high that I will do almost anything. I made a list this week of why I’m not killing myself and I was proud of myself for realizing that I don’t actually want to die. I want the pain to stop. I want to be held. I did not feel safe Monday night so instead of going home I slept over with a guy I barely know. It saved my life. He doesn’t know that. Doesn’t need to.
I’m quiet tonight in the music and the chaos. Too much stimulation. I need quiet. I need love. Saved.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010