A few days ago I hit that all too familiar place in my life. The one where the thoughts start spiraling out of control and instead of entertaining ideas like what we will do with our weekend -I start making plans for other things. I start fantasizing about driving to the liquor store and picking up two of the finest bottles. I start dreaming about drinking both of those bottles. I can feel the way it runs down my throat. I can taste it. It is so close. My thoughts continue to spiral and in the matter of minutes I go from a somewhat reasonable person to feeling nothing but anger, sadness, frustration, and yes -the so familiar friend -guilt.
The kind that wraps itself around you like a warm blanket and then tightens its grip -refusing to let go. Refusing to let you go.
I am familiar with all of these thoughts. So really, it shouldn’t have come as any surprise. But it did. Because they came from seemingly left field, they caught me so off guard and suddenly that I had no defense. I had nothing to bring myself back up again. It was simply spiraling into that deep dark black hole -alone. And to be completely honest, it scared me.
Not in an “I am scared of spiders, thunder or the dark” sort of way, but in a gut wrenching, heart ringing, head spinning kind of fear. My thoughts take control of themselves and there is no stopping. The guilt the squeezes until the last drop of life is out, the fear that takes control, the thoughts that never release…
I sit here today feeling as though I have just ran with the bulls, only instead of running with them -I lay beneath them as their hooves trample me -again and again, over and over, relentless. My body is tired, my mind is deflated, my heart is vulnerable and weak. I count the days down until the weekend will arrive -and take me away. Perhaps through drink, perhaps through sleep.
My tired mind screams to just give up the fight already. There is no reason to keep fighting. There is no reason to sacrifice the very things that at least give temporary relief. There is nothing keeping me on this side anymore. There is no point. No reason. No logic. The fight itself is simply not worth it. These thoughts mingle with the rest, conspiring against me whispering sweet nothings in my ear -reminding me again and again of the failures that have come as a result of me.
The thoughts that the world would be a much better place if I, for one, were not in it -are not even enough to rattle my cage anymore. To give that much credit to myself would be an insult to the rest of the world.
In a moment of frustration I drag myself outside into the heat of the day. The sun beating down hard giving our small town a very unusual introduction to summer, treating us to 70 degree temperatures where normally 50 would be suffice. I run. One foot in front of the other until I can go no further, and then I keep on running. Willing myself to run away from these thoughts. As if I run far enough, fast enough, hard enough -maybe I will be able to sneak up behind them, take them by surprise and put an end to them, once and for all.
Where did they come from? Why now? Haven’t I been doing so good? Too good? Maybe if I could trace their origin I could take them down. Once and for all.
But taking them from behind is not, in fact what I need to do. Facing them head on is the hardest. Running from them is easy.