This Isn’t Going To Be Pretty
How I Use Writing Therapy To Save My Life
There is not easy way to say this, but at times I am insane. Out of my head and irrational. Plainly just a danger to myself. I’m talking self-harm and suicide ideation. I’m talking risky sexual adventures and other dangerous activities.
At these times, the priorities of life become obscure, irrelevant or simply forgotten. The importance of certain things shift and fall out of focus. I develop disturbed logic that can somehow justify my current actions as the right thing to do.
I stop caring about myself and my future, and by doing so I put it at risk.
Drugs don’t help this process. At best they will put me to sleep, ready to wake and repeat it again the next day. At worst, they will compound the toxic thoughts and put the progress to my own downfall on over drive.
Exercise and meditation help. If I catch it early enough that is. But often, this all happens at night, when I am alone. As the tension of my mind increases, the ability to catch my brain wandering diminishes. When this happens, I face a crossroad.
Fall into oblivion or write.
