I’ve been in the bad place again.
The bad place feels like accusation. Lack of permission to exist. Wanting to not exist.
It feels like self loathing.
Tears that won’t stop.
It feels like irrational fear about saying or doing the wrong thing, so much that there is no Rae anymore, only a duffel bag full of fear. A Rae-shaped duffel bag full of fear.
It feels frozen. Clingy. Desperate. Frantic. Oh anxiety, you old, one-eyed cat.
Coming out of the bad place feels like a bird slowly coming down, down, down and lighting on a branch.
It is driving through tiny alleyways and noticing signs. Reading, writing down words that resonate in a journal. Seeing that the chairs in the optometrist shop are wearing socks. Immediate delight over a sign with the misspelling, “Marry Christmas.” Walking through aisles of yarn or enameled plates. Deciding that now is definitely not the time to try any Christmas shopping. (What are you crazy?)
It is breathing through waves of fear and pain that radiate out of the sternum.
It is reminding myself, “I am allowed to exist.” At stoplights. In bed. While looking for chocolate chips at the bake shop. Anywhere the panic comes. “God sees me. I’m not alone.”
Eating salad. Also sushi.
Looking at the sky.
Thinking about tomorrow and immediately panicking, so stopping that right away. Today is enough to think about. Driving home. The mountains will be cold. Is my coat good enough? Maybe not, it is actually a hoodie, not a coat, why did I say coat?
The bird tucks its head under its wing for a wee nap.
Tomorrow will come and I will be here. I am allowed to exist.
PS: Mom, don’t worry, I’m okay.
PPS: I’ve been sharing a bit of Advent content (not every day because that’s not really my strength set) for Patrons at Patreon. Come check it out if you are interested. xoxo
PPPS: Have you checked out the Shekina Meditation Podcast yet? You should.