i am a mess

an exploration of when it gets bad again, the cathartic inner workings of an anxious person

Author’s Note: This is the journal entry I was referring to in the post below, I did not write it from the week of whenever this will be posted, but a while ago in mid-February.

february wrapped: hurting + healing

The text below includes some sensitive themes such as self-deprecating thoughts and references to anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and self-injury (although not described explicitly, it is implied). If you are an individual who is triggered by these topics, you are not obliged to read or interact with this post at all. As well, if you find that you are not in the right headspace to process or consume this material, do not continue reading. Unfortunately, with the way Substack is formatted, emails include the whole post, which is why this author’s note is lengthy, to try and make sure that people read this before the main entry. If you need to reach out, feel free to use the commenting feature or to shoot me a DM @cinemagirls.mag on Instagram. I am no professional, so please use the resources below or talk to a specialist if you need expert opinion and/or help. Resources for mental health and well-being will be included below.

Sending love, hugs, and support,

Rach

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Resources (specific to Canada and North America):

Government of Canada

BC Ministry of Mental Health and Addictions

US National Institute of Health

CDC Mental Health

Kids Help Phone would be the one that I recommend the most. They answer calls from children and youth ages 5-25. They are completely anonymous, and even though I only called twice, it was nice to talk to somebody supportive and non-judgmental.

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songs to listen to while reading: drunk walk home by mitski, emotions by brenda lee

Emotions. oh, how funny they can be.

This week has been full of them (see author’s note).

Emotions and life itself are sometimes described as a rollercoaster, but I digress.

This implies the existence of only ups and downs. The coexistence of these ups and downs can happen and switch in a matter of moments, maybe even seconds.

I am tired, so tired of explaining myself and trying to regulate my emotions when I just feel them. At that moment I feel them with the crushing weight of trauma that has built up over the years, times a thousand.

The moment I start to sense my fingertips tingle, I know I cannot stop what is about to happen, think positively, or repress whatever thoughts come up to the surface.

The anger, the sadness, those are just words that are used to name, not to describe what these negative emotions actually feel like.

They feel like:

(this is about to get visceral)

• crying so hard into a pillow that when you try to scream all that comes out are garbled, throat-drying, raw, unintelligible sounds

• being so used to being yelled at and cursed out that when the tears come, your chest doesn’t constrict anymore because the emptiness has turned into nothingness, and your body is so used to the response that you stay frozen

• wanting to absolutely destroy anything fragile you come into contact with, pass the baseball bat

• pulling at your hair and skin because this flesh prison that you’re sitting in is not comfortable anymore and does not conform to societal standards

• rage brewing deep inside of you, stewing and overflowing, and all you can do is be silent because if you open your mouth, only poison will come out

• wrestling with people’s perceptions and feeling itchy when gazes zero in on you

• the bitter taste of food when you suddenly lose your appetite and feeling like eating is something you need to earn

• the mix-up of anxiety and sadness that comes from being in survival mode all the time

• uncomfortably and jealousy stemming from sitting at a functional family table, yearning for the warmth that accompanies treating people around you as decent human beings

• the urge to relapse into dangerous thoughts, so you draw lines on your arms with a red pen, because God knows, you’ll be called attention-seeking and narcissistic again

• getting an insincere apology that does not mean anything, sorry my ass

• rubbing your eyes and seeing flecks of mascara and smudged eyeliner irritating your sensitive skin but you are so, so tired

• being coerced into feeling guilty for standing up for yourself, deep inside you knew it was the right thing to do, but the fallout makes it look like your fault

• the jealousy and fear of missing out that causes a twinge in your heart, because you know that your parents will ask a billion questions if you bring anything up about being social or having fun, so you just stay home

• failing your first midterm in university and feeling so dumb and worthless

• looking out at the piles of clothes and junk in the vast wasteland of what is supposed to be your room

• seeing couples together and feeling the despair and loneliness that comes with being single, but you’re somehow happy for them

• reading the news about another horribly tragic event that the aftermath of it all hits you and you feel so deeply for the victims, you know you are safe and alive but everything makes you feel like it should have been you instead

• overthinking and rethinking and coming to terms with losing a safety net

• searching for love in the depths of childhood memories, painfully rummaging through nostalgia, asking yourself: am I worthy?

• trying desperately to have some sense of control over your life, but it is unattainable, a stupid, stuck cycle of losing all self-respect and worth after a few bitter words are said

• when the world is crashing down, down, down and you find yourself spiralling down a rabbit hole where rock-bottom doesn’t exist, it just keeps going

  After that is over, what might feel like hours, days, weeks, or even months and years of feeling so - done, there will be moments where you’ll be on edge, waiting for everything to collapse again so that you can pick up the flaking pieces falling off the layers of your heart until the clouds clear.

  Here are moments when I felt the sunshine on my face:

• random parents trusting me enough to have their kids sit beside me on the bus

• dogsitting and being woken up with a furry ball of joy resting at my feet

• friends speaking kind words and not having to explain myself to them

• a good hair/makeup/outfit day

• the soft smiles of acknowledgement that strangers give you when you do something courteous

• appreciating the slight curve where your ribcage meets your hips

• listening to classical music while walking around

• witnessing the lights of downtown illuminating the water in which it stands on

• the smell of flowers and trees in the air signalling that spring is coming near

• coping with healing methods, breathing deeply and feeling air; life entering my working lungs

• being able to have the privilege of writing all this out and processing it

• realizing my heartbeat is slowing after an episode

Coming to terms with knowing what they did to you, is not. your. fault.

Ultimately, I do not know what gets me out of the tunnel. There comes a point when feeling so hurt and damaged gets replaced with a seeping sense of calm. Maybe not happiness, but the thoughts become less, everything eventually becomes easier.

It is possible that I will find a person that will hold me so tight and wipe my tears with the pad of their thumb when life gets hard, but for now…

let me be that person for you.

for an article similar to this: Rayne Fisher-Quann: in conversation with myself