I blink through tears my eyes absorbing the colors in the rainbow
rug that my therapist undoubtedly got as a gift from one of her other clients.
"Fuck my mascara is running" I think to myself. "I'm a really
pretty crier," I say to my 4'' therapy teddy bear, Teddy. He doesn't
reply.
I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Me talking to a
bear, me worried about my fucking makeup in therapy, me unable to process my
feelings-you know the normal shit that makes a normal person laugh.I felt like I was
back in time yesterday during my session, old Kris came out, that means shit is really getting bad. I was sassy AF to my therapist,
swearing, lashing out at her. Her and her calm fucking voice that I interpret
as condescending when really “she’s just trying to help but you won’t let
me.” I scoff as I write that, I swear sometimes it is her fault, not mine.
I have been spiraling downward, like it actually feels like I’m
spinning, digging, constantly moving steadily down. And it seems as though I
can’t come out. That life is too much and I’m too messed up and I don’t know
which end is up or where I started.
I call my therapist back in (I demanded she go outside so she
couldn’t hear my crying, laughing sobs—talk about embarrassing). My arms held
tightly around my body, jaw clenched, makeup close to fixed (thank God for cell
phone cameras). “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and I want to feel
better. I don’t know how.”
She, per usual, gives me some abstract answer which I’m sure if I
wasn’t swollen with tears and a sore throat (I’ve been bingeing and purging
again) I would actually not only hear but understand. I do neither.
I ask to leave early, I just want to go. Where I do not know, but
because my makeup is fucked I guess I can’t go drink and I am trying to stay
sober on weekdays anyway. Off I go, wishing I still lived across the street
from her office.
And I binge and purge when I get home despite every belief eating
was a good idea. And I crawl into bed and I take a sleeping pill and I pray
that I wake up a different person the next day.
That didn’t really happen, but something else did. And now I’m
crying at work because that’s when you’re supposed to write really emotional
blogs about feelings and bulimia and depression and anxiety and crying. I’m
crying because my heart has hope again, and I feel as though I’ve gotten enough
to stop digging.I have been cutting out people I believe are not good for me, I’ve
been swearing off all electronic venues, and been feeling incredibly jaded
toward the electronic music world that once gave me a second chance at life.
But I’m realizing it isn’t the EDM world that’s the problem, it’s those I
surround myself with, the lessons I want to take from those experiences, and
the venues in which I choose to experience these uh experiences in.What I’m getting at is I was over all the fucked up people in the
club I frequent, I was over taking care of them, I was over not being able to
dance, I was over the fact that this thing called PLURR is no longer even
mentioned in said clubs. I guess that’s just it, they became clubs versus
raves. There was no more peace, love, unity, respect or responsibility. And
THAT was what got me started on this in the first place—an inclination that the
world wasn’t as mean as I thought it was.
Because things have been so hard lately at home, at work,
personally I needed an out so I decided to go to Bass Academy. I was going to
get on those extra tickets released at noon, pay money I didn’t have, to have
an experience that would hopefully be
priceless when it came to my sanity, happiness and hope.
And then—fucking tears—my prayers for help and hope were answered
by a friend who I’ve known most of my life. You wouldn’t know it because we don’t
speak that often, but he gives me a calm, a reassurance and a confidence I don’t
feel in people that I talk to everyday.
And this human gives me a ticket. And along with this ticket comes
more than admittance, with it it gives me something to motivate me to take care
of myself the rest of the week and not purge. With it gives me a reminder that
I don’t have to constantly protect myself, that you can give selflessly and
always have enough. With it gives me faith that PLURR is still out there and
something I can / need to strive for in myself. Basically, he gave me something
to live for when I didn’t want to wake up this morning.
With something as simple as a ticket to a show I have drive,
excitement, and most importantly hope. You never know how your words or actions can affect people. Yesterday I was asked why don't I write anymore and didn't it feel good to have just one person say you helped me today? And I had belittled the power honesty and openness could give someone else. If it weren't for those around me reaching out and offering help I wouldn't be able to have the guts to write again, and to hopefully help someone else.
I am starting to go in circles, but basically I feel reconnected to the universe. I feel reconnected to myself. And to you.
