So… this is life.
It’s 9:55pm. I’m sitting on the tile floor of a hotel next to an ATM. The world around me seems surreal. I did Scotty’s dance, taped Missi’s. People greet me and ask how I am. Some of them ask with a knowledge from Facebook of the hospital. Some have no idea. To those whose eyes say they know, I am trying to be honest. A new thing for me. My doctor warned me I would overheat on seroquel and geodon. She failed to tell me what to do not to. One intermediate Scotty workshop brought my blood boiling to a point it shouldn’t reach until well into a Saturday night dance or several advanced routines in a row outside on a hot summer black asphalt day. I must brainstorm for tomorrow. But I’m tired.
There’s cold air blowing on me.
I really love to dance.
I’m not sure why I feel sad here. I don’t feel connected. I don’t feel alive. I guess I don’t feel ready. Will I ever? I want to dance again but I don’t have faith in me. I need help to believe. I don’t even know what a healthy person’s life looks like. What am I s’posed to want? And for whom?
STOP (DBT skill) Now what did that stand for? (practice skill) Well, now I feel sadder.
Check the facts:
- I’m at Possum Trot.
- I’m sitting alone in a noisy lobby.
- I feel sad and scared.
- I am also excited to be here.
- I feel free on the dance floor.
- My face and neck are twitchy.
- I stayed awake today.
- I got to hug and laugh with Scotty.
- I am able to dance w/o pain.
- Mom is here.
- I am scared for it to be over.
- I really want to dance and feel loved.
- I am fragile.
- I am safe.
I’d like to watch Peg + Cat now.
My head hurts.
I want to feel safe.
Will I ever be a dancer again?
I need to go to sleep.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2015