Death by 1000 cuts

I have not coped well with today.

So much uncertainty. So much fear.

I understand now why this is considered torture. There’s very little I can point to and say “if that hadn’t happened, then I would feel better now”. If I tried to explain, it would seem as though I’m getting upset over nothing. But it is a series of nothings; a series of small things that add up to something that is beyond my ability to bear.

No-one is conspiring against me. No-one is treating me particularly badly.

It’s just the unrelenting grind. Climbing uphill with nowhere to rest.

The frequency of my meltdowns is increasing. I can’t control or stop them. There is no-one to comfort or console me afterwards. I am spinning untethered into the void.

I’m scared.

I am doing what I can. But at the moment that isn’t enough. I need to feel settled. I need to feel safe. Yet I am all tangled; all wrong. And I don’t have the words to articulate why.

I am an elastic band stretched taut and still being stretched.

I am a parachutist with the parachute strings severed.

I jump at shadows; at the smallest sound.

I’m not at my breaking point yet. I know where it is. And I still have some fight; the danger is when I stop caring. But I can feel it coming. Distant still, but getting closer.

I’ve been asking for help. Pleading; begging sometimes.

But no-one hears. And no-one comes.

I don’t know what else to try.


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