i don't know the last time i went ten days without writing. i haven't had much to say, i suppose. or when i do i can't find my voice. i don't really know if i can now, but i thought i'd give it a try.

i lost my shit at group. i went into the clinic, shoved past the group members that were waiting to be let in and made a beeline for the bathroom. i just had to cut. had to had to had to. so i'm locked in the bathroom and dig out the straight razor that i keep in my wallet for such emergencies. five long cuts on my right forearm. fast fast fast because i had to get to group. but my fucking arm would not. stop. bleeding. it took me ten minutes with those fucking brown institution paper towels to stop the bleeding.

so i'm late to group. and i'm anxious. more than anxious. i'm in a complete panic. my hands are shaking, my legs and feet are shaking. i'm not looking at anyone and i'm pulling my eyebrow hair out. the cutting didn't relieve shit. it only amped me up - i didn't do enough or take long enough time. it was like throwing accelerant on the fire.

so i'm shaking and sobbing and it takes the entire group session to talk me down. breathing. breathing. breathing. the Dr. calls attention to my bleeding arm. everyone's looking. everyone's looking. can't breathe. can't stop shaking. can't stop can't stop can't stop. breathe, he says, breathe. connect with someone in the group and breathe with them. i choose carrie. she's the only one i've ever been able to make eye contact with. she breathes with me. i start to sob and hold my head in my hands and stutter out "i just want my head to be quiet." it's so loud. it's the tornado. i can't hear anything. i see the Dr.'s mouth moving but i can't hear. i feel like i'm underwater.

but i breathe and breathe and breathe. for seconds. minutes. more minutes. the dr. takes tells me to take my shaking hands and put them on my shaking legs. press them into the ground. force them down. quiet them down. i push and shake again. push and shake. push and shake. eventually i'm able to push more than shake. i'm breathing. for the first time i feel myself in the chair instead of floating in the rafters. breathe. look at carrie. breathe. push down. tears still falling. breathe. push. they are still looking. everyone, everyone looking.

it takes the entire session to calm me down. i'm embarrassed. these people showed up today to sit and watch this?! they saw my arm. they know. what am i going to do now that they know? they hate me. i wasted their time. i couldn't look at anyone anymore.

i'm exhausted. i can't move out of the chair. they all file out and after a few minutes i drag myself out after them. the dr. says i did good work. i barely hear him. i barely nod.

i crawl home. i'm exhausted. i can' barely move. it's all i can do to type this but i have to get it out.

that's all.

starving + bleeding