Another Blog About the Darkness

In the dream my body suddenly started to hurt all over, and I became very heavy, I fell to the ground and started vomiting water. I stared at the water in confusion as I vomited up more of it.

I woke up.

I was crying. My pillow was soaked. I felt freezing but I was covered in sweat. I tried to slow my breath, it worked for a second, but then my mind started tossing out reasons why the crying was valid, “Everything hurts! I have $12 in my bank account! I’m almost out of medicine! And food! My last resort isn’t returning my message! FUUUUCK!!! Why is everything so hard?!”

I eventually calmed myself down and tried to sleep again, breathing. Breathing. But then it started back up again. Darker. Wondering if my knives would even be sharp enough, my building tall enough, or my sleeping pills potent enough. Wondering if I should try anyway.

“I should go smoke some weed.”

Finally. A sane thought. I started crying harder as my body protested my sitting up. I fumbled for my sports bra and growled in pain as I got it on. I put my cell phone and it’s charger inside and tried to stand, but slowly surrendered to gravity’s strength. I scooted on the floor, kinda like an itchy-assed dog, the few feet to end of my lofted bedroom.

I put my foot on the second ladder rung down, then shifted the weight to my arms, flopped the other leg down. Arm down. Leg flop down. Arm down. Eventually I reached the ground, crying out again as I forced my body into vertical and reached out to the couch for support.

I looked at the clock, 5:30am. I had been carrying on for an hour. Twenty minutes later I had fended off crying twice, but finally got the bowl loaded and toked it. I cried out when it was gone and realized the darkness was still in my mind and the pain still screamed in my body. I loaded another, grimacing at how little medicated time I had left. Three puffs later it finally worked.

My body suddenly seemed to melt, as if the screaming pain and inability to move correctly had simply been ice that just needed a lil’ toasting up. My mind became quiet. Then it reminded me that the new Gilmore Girls was just released, very thoughtfully on the day after Thanksgiving––a day that many so many of us find ourselves in need of comfort.

I watched. I loaded my teeny ineffective (but adorable) vaporizers, leaving one serving or so. I tried not to judge Rory for ignoring her boyfriend and cheating on him. I switched vaporizers as the batteries ran out. I wished Melissa McCarthy had been asked back sooner. I awww’d, I laughed, I was careful not to cry. All the batteries ran out.

I made it until the credits, when I became aware of my body again. The crying started again, the thoughts just as dark as the last time. I scratched at my arms hard with my long nails, then wondered what the fuck I did that for––but then realized that that pain felt much better, it was an absolute improvement. The mind can only focus on so much. It didn’t help for long. I felt the peace at the very back of my consciousness, I tried to focus on it.

“This isn’t real. I love life. I get a big fucking kick out of it. This is an illusion. This is just the weather, I am the sky.” And so on. It’s never made the dark thoughts go away, they still cohabitate in my mind, wrestling for attention, but it helps. The dark thoughts started to win anyways, and I realized I better smoke the remaining bits of herb.

I did so. There wasn’t enough to melt the pain, but my headspace completely shifted. I felt like writing, did so. It flowed, it felt amazing. I finished the last of the remaining cannabis. I finished the piece. I wondered why it feels like my left ribs are broken, it’s a very very intense pain. Was it from laying on the couch? “Tender” is a fucking bullshit symptom description.

I realized I was out of things to say. But I think the storm has passed.

It’s 10am now. At some point last night I wondered if I could trade insurance-covered pharmaceutical pain killers for cannabis on the street. (Or, you know, on Craig’s List.) This is such a strange world. I won’t do that, one jail experience was good enough to scare this girl straight. (And a fierce review on the risks of pain pill dependency…)

And I won’t ever let the darkness win. I promise.

Send juju ❤.


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