There is a hole in your heart.
Jun. 20th, 2014 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bloodsong1Yes, I know. I've been aware of it for a while. It has a nice big roundish rubber plug in it, much like a bathtub drain plug. It even has a little chain dangling from it.
I know what the plug IS now. It's what's holding back all the pain and grief and sadness and depression. It's Dealing With Indigo, which is not actually DEALING with Indigo, it's merely locking her up.
I am afraid to remove this plug. I know it's going to hurt like a screaming bitch. I'm going to bleed. I'm going to cry. I could die from it, finally be driven to the suicide I longed for last fall.
I don't want to go back to that. That was terrifying. (She says now with 20/20 hindsight and all that. At the time LIVING was terrifying and exhausting and I didn't want to and any mention of the kiddos would result in snarling and baring of teeth. I DIDN'T WANT TO BE ALIVE)
Okay, so maybe it wasn't all that terrifying. It wasn't GOOD for me, I know that, and I still haven't finalized my will, so I'm not in immediate danger of driving off a cliff. My albatross Sense of Duty won't allow for it.
I hate my Sense of Duty sometimes.
So it seems I'm pretty much over the Anger, beating up Wolf was very cathartic. I am not over the Depression. I am nowhere near Acceptance. Zoloft has been keeping it to manageable levels, but even that isn't moving forward on the spiral. Being Glad to be Alive IS moving forward and I've had two instances in two weeks. This is a good start. The lake house is proving its value on a personal level and I do appreciate it.
It's also a good thing I'm phobic about water, because the temptation to drown myself could become quite strong.
Damn. I wish I hadn't thought of that. Oh well. One must be honest with oneself.
Being eaten by a tiger would be a much greater honor. I think I'll go for that. Yes. When I'm ready to die I will fly to India and walk into the Ganges Delta (Sunderlands? *shrug*) and make myself available to the tigers. Maybe they'll even let me pet them as they're tearing my guts out. That would be nice. Painful, but nice. I'll leave a death poem pinned to a tree with a survival knife.
Excellent. It's always good to have a plan.
I know what the plug IS now. It's what's holding back all the pain and grief and sadness and depression. It's Dealing With Indigo, which is not actually DEALING with Indigo, it's merely locking her up.
I am afraid to remove this plug. I know it's going to hurt like a screaming bitch. I'm going to bleed. I'm going to cry. I could die from it, finally be driven to the suicide I longed for last fall.
I don't want to go back to that. That was terrifying. (She says now with 20/20 hindsight and all that. At the time LIVING was terrifying and exhausting and I didn't want to and any mention of the kiddos would result in snarling and baring of teeth. I DIDN'T WANT TO BE ALIVE)
Okay, so maybe it wasn't all that terrifying. It wasn't GOOD for me, I know that, and I still haven't finalized my will, so I'm not in immediate danger of driving off a cliff. My albatross Sense of Duty won't allow for it.
I hate my Sense of Duty sometimes.
So it seems I'm pretty much over the Anger, beating up Wolf was very cathartic. I am not over the Depression. I am nowhere near Acceptance. Zoloft has been keeping it to manageable levels, but even that isn't moving forward on the spiral. Being Glad to be Alive IS moving forward and I've had two instances in two weeks. This is a good start. The lake house is proving its value on a personal level and I do appreciate it.
It's also a good thing I'm phobic about water, because the temptation to drown myself could become quite strong.
Damn. I wish I hadn't thought of that. Oh well. One must be honest with oneself.
Being eaten by a tiger would be a much greater honor. I think I'll go for that. Yes. When I'm ready to die I will fly to India and walk into the Ganges Delta (Sunderlands? *shrug*) and make myself available to the tigers. Maybe they'll even let me pet them as they're tearing my guts out. That would be nice. Painful, but nice. I'll leave a death poem pinned to a tree with a survival knife.
Excellent. It's always good to have a plan.
