Last week has been one of the most difficult ones. Possibly ever. Full of worry and fear and endless crashing waves of pointless guilt. (See this post.)
Time assumes a strange quality in times in times of crisis. Hours pass by in a fog, punctured by sharp, craggy moments of absolute clarity. I've been stuck in my head and in my heart, neurotically clutching my phone like a lifeline.
For the past seven days, everything in me has been focused on my friend. For someone as invested in my own mental health and my own issues, it's astounding to see all of that cease to matter. Sometimes shit so huge goes down that there's nothing left to do but forget myself, in a way.
But I've been coping, I've gone into a kind of a survival mode. Forcing myself to eat, to sleep, to talk to my friends and to allow myself some tears. It seems almost as though I've turned into a shell with feelings inside and nothing on the outside except whatever is needed to display the inside. I'm like a tuned radio, unable to turn myself off, keeping a running commentary of my thoughts, of all the panic and fear and hurt and sadness, and also the perpetual undercurrent of relief.
I'm normally quite proficient at hiding how I feel, but this past week I have been able to hide absolutely nothing. As my therapist said, that's really the only thing to do after a traumatic event. To get it all out there.
And things are calmer now, things are okay. I really think we might all pull through, my friend and myself included.
(And yet again a huge thank you to all my friends and family and also to my therapist.)