I am not emotionally stable.

I am not emotionally stable.


Not right now, and not for a long time.

It is easy, too easy, for things to dramatically shift in me. On edge. All the time. Nowhere to go but down. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, but it’s been this bad for an increasingly long time. Little comments can be like weights, pulling me down. I know intellectually that they’re supposed to be flippant, or sometimes that the people speaking don’t see farther than the words coming out of their mouths, but my mind looks forward, extrapolates, and sees a future I don’t want to have to try to survive, implied by their words, their sentiment.

So many of my decisions are made to sabotage my own willingness to try (for the first real time since ’99) to end all this. Maybe whatever it was I was supposed to do is done by now, maybe the last 7 years were enough, and now I can go home. The only ways I’ve found to stop myself is by making myself a terrible burden to leave behind, by making future plans, by sabotaging the ease of it – the psychological and emotional impact I have always been able to abide, but measurable difficulties like financial burden on my family and unfulfilled promises are things I worry about, things that hold me back.

Things that often make it harder and harder each day, every day, to go on.

Things that work against the tiny amount of balance I’ve worked out.

I’m not stable here, and I can’t see a safe way down.

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Author, artist, romantic, insomniac, exorcist, creative visionary, lover, and all-around-crazy-person.