Last night was difficult. I had made some poor choices a few nights before with an ex-boyfriend (the Duckter) and was feeling the regrets and loss of self worth that are the repercussions of such events.
Laying on my blue couch I felt the panic swirling in my chest, bulging out my eyeballs, and pumping through my veins. It was back. I had injected the poison into my system that caused me so many problems in the first place. I was so disappointed in myself, and I wanted to reverse everything that had happened.
I could feel my pulse pounding inside my body. In my temples, toes… and my wrist. I extended my wrist closer to my face so I could examine the life that was beating within. There it was, my radial artery. It was jumping up and down with such force that I could see it through my skin. The skin that was covered in scars that served as attempts to release some sort of pain or emotion when I was a teenager. It was mind boggling that a multitude of uneasy thoughts swirling around in my head could actually increased my pulse like this. How disgusting.
As I watched my artery that was fueled by and inappropriate fight or flight response dance around in my wrist, I could picture my good (sharp) cooking knife nestled next to my cutting board in the cabinet above the sink. I fought my impulses as my body tried to get up and fetch the knife. I new it just wouldn’t be a few cuts. I visualized myself crawling into my blue bath tub so I didn’t make a mess while I bled out. Suicide was nipping me at the ankles again.
I got up from the couch, bypassed the cabinet that contained the knife, and went to my closet to fetch my art supplies. I put on a movie, and began painting a ceramic bird I had picked up at the thrift store. At first I had to force myself to continue the project, but then I sank into it and my rushing thoughts started to dilute. Once I had finished painting my bird, I felt fine. Everything was ok. I wasn’t going to die after all.
I did it. I took care of myself with out drugs. I didn’t even pick up the knife to look at it or hold it. I can do this, and I’m figuring out new and better ways to cope. I can conquer this, always!
Damsel in Profess 