Trigger Warnings

Yesterday, after I missed another class I was feeling really disappointed in myself. I think my body reacted to that disappointment and shut down. I flat-lined, felt numb, went comatose. I found myself sitting on the couch, looking at and thinking about nothing in particular. In those moments, I try to call myself back, but sometimes it is too hard and I am too comfortable resting in space.
I have expectations, I guess is what it comes down to. I have an idea about what I should be doing in a day, what I want things to be like and how I want to feel during that time. But when I woke up in the morning and the Valium still hadn't worn off, that threw everything out the window. I had fallen asleep in the shower, and I had missed my bus. I had missed yet another class, and I had failed at that day. It seems like a long distance to go, for one to be disappointed in themselves for missing a class and then suddenly not want to live out the rest of the day, but I've always thought that way--black and white, two polar opposites with no compromise or in between. It's something I'm continuing to work on, and sometimes I can get past the disappointment roadblock and salvage a day but other times I can't.
I don't know if I'm willing to credit myself for salvaging yesterday, and that is probably something I should look into sometime, but I do know that I was very lucky to have Katie tell me that the day wasn't going to be over and done, whether or not I stayed home, or stayed numb. And then my mom came and picked me up so that I couldn't find any reason not to go to my tattoo appointment that I made six months ago.
Before she came to pick me up, I was looking for other people who are writing through recovery, specifically mental illness. The minute I hit the search button, I got thousands upon thousands of places to search, telling me that this was something that other people do. That I'm not alone. And I was suddenly so excited to become part of a community, part of something bigger than me and this illness and my beast. The first one I looked at was written by a thirty-something in the U.K. Her blog was recognized as one of the "Best Bipolar Health Blogs of 2013" according to healthline.com. Her blog was a record of her life over the past four years, as well as a resource for others suffering similarly.
I read her most recent post, dated December 17th 2013. The first thing she included was a trigger warning, and that should have been the first time I doubted whether I should continue reading or not. The 17th was close to Christmas, and the holidays prove to be a very difficult time for most people, but especially those that struggle with mood disorders. She wrote about her parents, the place she lives and shopping for loved ones. And then pretty suddenly, she was talking about self harm and the feelings attached to the urges she was experiencing. Although I do not have a lot of experience with self-harm, those urges were all too familiar and the thoughts she was having could have been the voice of my beast. I finished reading and was trying to be very aware of my emotional reaction to the post. I scrolled down to the comments, curious to see what her readers may have been experiencing as a result of reading. There were only two, and they were from the same person. The first, a warm message of understanding and encouragement. The second, a goodbye. The author of this blog had taken her own life, she had lost her battle sometime in the last month.
I didn't have time to process it. I didn't have time to notice how I was feeling about this information. My mom had shown up, ready to take me to my appointment. I am again, so very lucky that my mom asked me how I was doing, or I wouldn't have had to think about my answer. I am so very scared that one day I will lose my battle as well. I'm frightened that I won't be able to do all of the things I want to be able to do, and instead with the knowledge of my passing people will say "She was so young, had so much potential and so much life to be lived." I hurt for her, this complete stranger that was so young, had so much potential and so much life left to live. I hurt for her readers that found comfort in her words. I hurt for all those that have lost their battles and their lives to their illnesses.
I sat for three hours in my appointment, needle to my skin and was glad to be salvaging what was left of my day. I was glad to be feeling something, particularly pain, and felt even better knowing that the pain would give me something beautiful. Ganesha is my warrior and remover of obstacles. He is beautiful, and he is mine and he is my reminder that battles can be beautiful.

I will do my best to include trigger warnings with my posts, to be sensitive to the experience of others. If you read anything that does not include a trigger warning, and you believe it should, please let me know. If you do not know what a trigger warning is, or would like clarification as to what topics of discussion may require a trigger warning, please follow the link below:

Trigger Warnings