Wait at the intersection

The meds that helped us get off xanax are themselves leaving our system. We have chosen no meds. Why?

We don’t remember what we know and do not know. We know we are low on skills. But we don’t know what we need Now. We used to have energy. We used to have a fire for healing. We used to want to try to get better. Those things are not true now.

As the meds leave us, we have brain zaps. We have chronic nausea. We are dizzy. Yesterday, we napped twice. Today, we feared sleep and lost hours wandering in the yard.

Turns out that we raked leaves, harvested some Common Milkweed seeds and planted them. When we found some unused seeds later today, we gave them to a neighbor and her young daughter.

The mirror is freaking us out. We seem very old. The medications have drugged some of us out of knowing our caring.

We are scared of that reflection again.

We got very hungry tonight. We do not recall hunger. The meds cloaked it. OCD is awakening. Becoming more alert. We notice our glasses are crooked. We feel guilty using too much silverware. The egg yolk burst upon flipping it in the frying pan, and we knew it was confirmation that we are worthless.

This is why we we’re medicated. Duh.

We forget.

We want to try applying some acceptance. Nonjudgmental awareness. Navigate the rising suicidality with compassion.

We suck at handling physical symptoms on top of mental. So this nausea is challenging. We are trying to avoid the panic spiral.

Not surprisingly, we crave T-1. Ache for T-1. Still, AJ will not let us reach out. AJ cannot risk being vulnerable. Little will need another caregiver.

We cannot find therapy. We are too different, jaded, tired. T-1 lives so close that we can probably hear each other’s energy if we tried. AJ won’t let us try. It has been more than five months.

Try to remain calm. Accept as possible. Try not to dissociate so much. when you notice, try not to judge.

This is one of those hard times. Habitual ways of coping from our old life are less effective. Take it slow.

Take your time. This is the key. One day the nausea may pass. The energy may return. A therapist who cares, is open, and reliable may fall from the sky. Maybe too much history with T-1 and T-3 mean we can’t see them.

We are so indebted to T-2 that we will keep that weekly appointment, at least until T-2 complains that it’s too cold to meet in cars anymore

7 thoughts on “Wait at the intersection

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