when the words won't let me sleep

[twelvemonthandaday]

you have to say good bye to the things you've loved, the things that have carried you this far.

i have to say good bye to the ocean, and the forest, and the curve in the unknown road. the stars through the trees and the campfire shadow on my father's face and the smell of rain in the early morning.

good bye, and thank you, and I love you.

like a fucked up bucket list. but i can't stop thinking about it. I think this will keep me here, this time. i can't leave until i've said good bye to the trees.

whatever works, you know?

[twelvemonthandaday]

i had my first breakdown in years today where i genuinely wanted to kill myself. not the passive ideation I've been dealing with for my whole life but like. actively wanting to not be here anymore. in so much pain just the thought of being dead brought relief.

not going to do it. obviously. i've made it this far and through way worse things, i'm not giving up NOW of all times.

but, like. man. I thought I was past this. it's been more than 5 years since I last really, genuinely thought about it, enough to make a plan. I really thought I was past this. I hate that more than anything.

I think that's why it hit so hard. realizing i'm never going to be 'past it'. not really. i'm going to have to fight this for the rest of my life. i hate that.

[twelvemonthandaday]

and FUCK what really sucks this time around is realizing the problem really IS my brain.

it's not my circumstances or somebody else making me miserable. i can't blame my abusive mother or my tiny hometown i felt trapped in or my shitty borderline-abusive ex or my high-stress yet low-paying job.

right now i have my own apartment i used to dream about, a great job that i worked fucking hard for, i spend my days doing the things i love, i live right by the river where i can sit out back and watch the water any time i want which, again, i used to DREAM about being able to do.

and yet my brain still fucking won't let me enjoy life.

some part of me insists on being miserable and I fucking hate it.

i feel so weak.

how can i have everything i used to ache with wanting for, and yet I came home from work today and collapsed in the kitchen and thought of three different ways i could kill myself without even leaving the room.

there's something wrong with ME and i don't know how to change it.

there's nothing for me to escape this time, and that scares me. that's what kept me going the last couple times i wanted to die - i clung to the thought, it'll get better once i move out. it'll get better when i get a new job. it'll get better once the divorce is finalized and i'm free.

but not this time. there's nothing left to run away from and i still want to fucking kill myself. i have new dreams and goals and things in my life i'm actively looking forward to, and i still want to fucking kill myself.

what the fuck do i do.

[twelvemonthandaday]

i had my first breakdown in years today where i genuinely wanted to kill myself. not the passive ideation I've been dealing with for my whole life but like. actively wanting to not be here anymore. in so much pain just the thought of being dead brought relief.

not going to do it. obviously. i've made it this far and through way worse things, i'm not giving up NOW of all times.

but, like. man. I thought I was past this. it's been more than 5 years since I last really, genuinely thought about it, enough to make a plan. I really thought I was past this. I hate that more than anything.

I think that's why it hit so hard. realizing i'm never going to be 'past it'. not really. i'm going to have to fight this for the rest of my life. i hate that.

[twelvemonthandaday]

the new barista at the corner coffee stand is the same girl who painstakingly taught me everything there was to know about Blink-182 in the back row of fourth-period English class in seventh grade. It's been over 20 years and I still remember - Tom, Mark, and Travis. Guitar, bass, and drums. Melody plus emotion and truth and fearless human connection equals punk, equals true freedom of the mind. She doesn't recognize me. I don't know if I want her to. we're so much older now and neither of us is where we thought we'd be. she wanted to be a body builder and I wanted to be a pilot. I can see at a glance that she did get strong in the years since we were emo millennial kids together - but it's not physical strength. It's the tired, beaten down but refusing to break, no-way-out-but-through kind of strength that every working class American in the 21st century is familiar with. She's probably stronger now than she ever expected to be when she was dreaming of owning her own gym someday, and I gave up on the idea of flying so long ago it feels like I'm remembering someone else's dream. who can possibly fly in this ridiculous world that's hellbent on keeping us grounded, stuck beneath the feet of every capitalist fucker that only looks for a way to profit when they see us suffering. I bet there's not a single CEO in America who has really felt a Blink-182 song. Thank god Jenny taught me how to feel music way back then. I didn't realize it until just now but I think she opened my eyes to what human beings are really like and I'd probably be just like those soulless capitalist fucks I hate if she hadn't. we might both be worker bees now but we'll never be mindless drones and that feels like a win. that's all a bit much to unpack in the drive thru lane of a busy coffee stand. I drive away without telling Jenny she saved my life. maybe next time.

[twelvemonthandaday]

Thought.

I want to be myself again, but myself is someone new and different to what I remember.

After years of masking and performing and scrunching myself down to fit into what other people needed me to be, I feel like a stranger. I want to find the way back to being myself again while simultaneously realizing that I've grown far beyond who I used to be and there is no way "back". I need to scrape off the layers that everyone else has put on me over the years. I'm in here somewhere, I know it.

CPTSD recovery is not a fucking joke, let me tell you.

[twelvemonthandaday]

when the people who CAN do something don't give a shit, then it's up to the people who give a shit to DO something.

this was a thought I had about superheroes and vigilantes.

but it's not just about superheroes and vigilantes, is it.

[twelvemonthandaday]

Lost in the cracks of the landslide You saw me slipping on my blind side I'm feeling lost, feeling tongue-tied And now I'm frozen in your headlights

Deep in the haze of your love high I used to soar on the live wire I'm coming down from your supply And I don't know if you can make it right

I can't take it From the day I saw my heart start breaking No one saved me I can't take it Can't believe I went and lost you baby Earth kept shaking all around You let me down And I can't take it From the day I saw my heart start breaking No one saved me

Hit the ground running up from you Baby you know I don't want to No I want you But there's nothing left to say

[twelvemonthandaday]

How is it that the music I clung to in the early days of my marriage, when everything was new and wonderful and hard, is the same music that's helping me grieve it?