most days are pretty good. minimal body ache, pretty good mood. some days are okay. something hurts more than usual, or things are a little…off. still, survivable.
then there are the Bad Days. when the brain and the mouth don’t cooperate, or the mood is just foul, or everything hurts, or anxiety is high. i think it’s worse when anxiety is high and you don’t know what caused it.
on the other hand, anxiety with a known cause is just as bad. it still has the same result. stress on an already fragile system.
100% truth: i have no plan of killing myself (or anyone else). i am no stranger to intrusive thoughts, and that’s what i really think is at play.
i cried a lot today. probably the most i’ve cried in a single day since May, when the Lila hurt was in full bloom.
i was figuratively slapped in the face with how racist the little city i live in has become. thinking about it still makes me sick to my stomach. since getting home, i’ve sat with Teddy Panda. i’ll probably carry him to bed tonight, too. he’s always close by, but it’s bad when i pull him into bed.
i’ve had very little appetite today. i didn’t even want the tea i got while we were out, but i drank it anyway. when i could taste it, it was good. but the thought of eating much of anything sets my stomach churning again. and it all stems from the dozen or so racists on the street corner, cheering at cars in support of the reelection campaign for the current president, and the multitude of vehicles honking in (presumed) support.
i feel silly for being so upset by this. this passive interaction has basically ruined my day. but it really drove home how much my city has changed. i think i hate it here. there were three positives about this whole gross nonsense: my mom, unafraid to speak her mind, calling them out as racists, the two teens? young adults? complimenting the energy, and an unknown passenger in another car leaning out the window to flip them off and shout “fuck you.” whoever that wonderful person was, i hope life gives you something good.
but, yeah. i think i hate living here. i’ve never had a strong attachment to living here, but i actively dislike it now. today was actually the first day since my antidepressant kicked in that i thought about killing myself. that scares me. even at my lowest, i don’t think i had this strong of ideation. but i was there today. not to play the what if game, but if we have another four years of this, i don’t know that any of us will survive.
and i get the feeling that’s really what they want.
for the good of the world, we have to fight back. we have to make it through this and come out the other side stronger for it.
to paraphrase the Bene Gesserit, “i will let it pass over me and through me. and when it is gone, only i will remain.”