access to food
may 10, 2020
food saved me today.
i woke full of fear and angst and unbridled anger, torn between what options existed for me and pure, unfiltered suicidality. feeling like this life was punishment, this world my prison, filled with people who were put here when they shouldn't have been, and then all the dangerous, violent crazies who are out here spreading their hate and their pain and their fear. and there's no way out except coping. except outlets. except things that help me to get through the worst times of it, when it's incapacitating and overwhelming and impossible. i just have to wait it out, wait, wait, wait...you won't feel this way forever. you won't think this way forever...the thoughts are there, it's just the thoughts, and they keep coming, the connections, and associations keep happening, and i can see something wrong with every aspect of my life, and i have so, so, so little control, all i can control are the thoughts, the things i choose to give my energy to. the behaviors. so i think of my home, and the sunlight coming through all of the glorious windows, and the cats purring in their respective perches, and the boyfriend perched at his desk working on his D&D game, and i start to feel sad he left me here, alone, in this room with my thoughts. but he checked on me. he checked in with me, he just didn't know to sit and hold me or offer to make me food, because he can't see inside my head, and i have to be careful about what i let outside of my head, because once it's outside of my head it's a different thing. we bring things to being through our narration. i narrate my existence every day, and some days it is the most courageous thing to narrate against the emotions attempting to take over, attempting to pull me toward that spiral where i just keep feeling heavier, and heavier, and powerless and hopeless and defeated. it takes such strength. such fucking strength. pulling myself each time. pulling on the coping tools. pulling on the rational strands of thought dangling just beyond my reach sometimes. pulling at the reasons, my reasons to keep going. grabbing onto something with enough substance to pull. myself. back. up.
and that is why i feel i must be able to rely on myself. no one is ever going to know what ropes to throw down when i'm suffering inside my own head. even in my despair i am responsible for the work of moving myself toward hope again. and again. and again. and again.
so today, when my brain couldn't work normally. when it couldn't just get up, do the things, have some coffee, get started, i got stuck. i did the dishes, but i texted the crisis line. i tried reaching out to someone because i knew. i knew i was in a not so good place and having a harder time grabbing onto anything. but that wasn't helping. that counselor can't fix the system. no one can. so i did the dishes. and then i made some coffee, and while i waited for the coffee, my boyfriend came into the kitchen. he had come while i was putting some mugs into the sink. my depressive brain wanted to nit-pick, wanted to be mean because i was hurt, i was hurting. but i resisted, and simply said i was "having a hard morning." i could tell my emotional state was repelling. i could tell it was pushing him away. and that made me sadder.
he went back upstairs, and i went to have a cigarette. i thought i heard the neighbor go back into their apartment. i felt like a piece of shit, again, for smoking. for not making some other way of going outside. for not wanting to exercise outside. for not wanting to be around anyone, because i don't know who's sick and who's not, and there is no end in sight to this not knowing.
i went back inside. i went to the couch, where my hot coffee and the cats were. i had pulled open the curtain to let more light in. please. more light. sunshine. illuminating the goodness in my life, in my living room, in my life. here with me. now. find myself in the moment. don't get stuck on the bad.
and noah came down again, this time to grab a poptart for himself. and that voice inside me cried. cried he didn't ask me if i was hungry, if i needed anything. cried i was such a burden, cried out of anger that i had to do it. i had to make my own food. i had to keep taking care of myself even at a time i was having trouble just getting up. just standing and putting one foot in front of the other and doing anything. i did the dishes. i had done the dishes. i had reached out. but i felt like a burden to my partner, and he got his poptart, and said hello to the kitties, and went back upstairs, and there i was alone again. with my thoughts. just frantic. looking for something to grab onto.
and then i thought of it. i thought of the groceries we needed. i thought of my plan to begin the list a day early, just so i didn't have to use too much of my time tomorrow. food saved me because the process of ordering ahead, the process of making the list, of starting the list and getting it ready. of thinking about the things i could make through the week besides easy stuff. of what i might like to indulge in. of what flavors would tickle my fancy. that brought me out of it. it got me to stand up and go upstairs and work on something finite and doable.
food saved me today. who knows how many other things will save me today too.
food saved me today.
i woke full of fear and angst and unbridled anger, torn between what options existed for me and pure, unfiltered suicidality. feeling like this life was punishment, this world my prison, filled with people who were put here when they shouldn't have been, and then all the dangerous, violent crazies who are out here spreading their hate and their pain and their fear. and there's no way out except coping. except outlets. except things that help me to get through the worst times of it, when it's incapacitating and overwhelming and impossible. i just have to wait it out, wait, wait, wait...you won't feel this way forever. you won't think this way forever...the thoughts are there, it's just the thoughts, and they keep coming, the connections, and associations keep happening, and i can see something wrong with every aspect of my life, and i have so, so, so little control, all i can control are the thoughts, the things i choose to give my energy to. the behaviors. so i think of my home, and the sunlight coming through all of the glorious windows, and the cats purring in their respective perches, and the boyfriend perched at his desk working on his D&D game, and i start to feel sad he left me here, alone, in this room with my thoughts. but he checked on me. he checked in with me, he just didn't know to sit and hold me or offer to make me food, because he can't see inside my head, and i have to be careful about what i let outside of my head, because once it's outside of my head it's a different thing. we bring things to being through our narration. i narrate my existence every day, and some days it is the most courageous thing to narrate against the emotions attempting to take over, attempting to pull me toward that spiral where i just keep feeling heavier, and heavier, and powerless and hopeless and defeated. it takes such strength. such fucking strength. pulling myself each time. pulling on the coping tools. pulling on the rational strands of thought dangling just beyond my reach sometimes. pulling at the reasons, my reasons to keep going. grabbing onto something with enough substance to pull. myself. back. up.
and that is why i feel i must be able to rely on myself. no one is ever going to know what ropes to throw down when i'm suffering inside my own head. even in my despair i am responsible for the work of moving myself toward hope again. and again. and again. and again.
so today, when my brain couldn't work normally. when it couldn't just get up, do the things, have some coffee, get started, i got stuck. i did the dishes, but i texted the crisis line. i tried reaching out to someone because i knew. i knew i was in a not so good place and having a harder time grabbing onto anything. but that wasn't helping. that counselor can't fix the system. no one can. so i did the dishes. and then i made some coffee, and while i waited for the coffee, my boyfriend came into the kitchen. he had come while i was putting some mugs into the sink. my depressive brain wanted to nit-pick, wanted to be mean because i was hurt, i was hurting. but i resisted, and simply said i was "having a hard morning." i could tell my emotional state was repelling. i could tell it was pushing him away. and that made me sadder.
he went back upstairs, and i went to have a cigarette. i thought i heard the neighbor go back into their apartment. i felt like a piece of shit, again, for smoking. for not making some other way of going outside. for not wanting to exercise outside. for not wanting to be around anyone, because i don't know who's sick and who's not, and there is no end in sight to this not knowing.
i went back inside. i went to the couch, where my hot coffee and the cats were. i had pulled open the curtain to let more light in. please. more light. sunshine. illuminating the goodness in my life, in my living room, in my life. here with me. now. find myself in the moment. don't get stuck on the bad.
and noah came down again, this time to grab a poptart for himself. and that voice inside me cried. cried he didn't ask me if i was hungry, if i needed anything. cried i was such a burden, cried out of anger that i had to do it. i had to make my own food. i had to keep taking care of myself even at a time i was having trouble just getting up. just standing and putting one foot in front of the other and doing anything. i did the dishes. i had done the dishes. i had reached out. but i felt like a burden to my partner, and he got his poptart, and said hello to the kitties, and went back upstairs, and there i was alone again. with my thoughts. just frantic. looking for something to grab onto.
and then i thought of it. i thought of the groceries we needed. i thought of my plan to begin the list a day early, just so i didn't have to use too much of my time tomorrow. food saved me because the process of ordering ahead, the process of making the list, of starting the list and getting it ready. of thinking about the things i could make through the week besides easy stuff. of what i might like to indulge in. of what flavors would tickle my fancy. that brought me out of it. it got me to stand up and go upstairs and work on something finite and doable.
food saved me today. who knows how many other things will save me today too.
Comments
Post a Comment