(This will be post-dated, but I actually wrote this on the morning of March 30th, Thursday.)
Good morning, er, day. I slept in a bit after a night out w N and her mates. I joined them at S’s place after their meeting for the March 10 event. It wasn’t the typical bright lights, loud music, gyrating bodies type of wild night. S’s place is closed on Wednesdays so there was nothing going on. It was a relaxed, subdued, after hours sort of thing - just a small group of friends goofing around, pilfering the bar, and ordering take-out from a neighborhood eatery. That’s exactly the kind of night I look forward too these days. While I do enjoy the occasional party night out, I can safely say that I am well done and over those days. Even if I’m 22, I think I’ve fully exhausted myself in terms of partying. Well, for now, at least. Last night consisted mostly of me drinking and talking to S, while N and her boy talked things out.
Anyway, I had an episode last night. I meant to post something too, but I was just too tired. It started off with, “I’m sitting in the attic, smoking the same old cigarettes, nursing the same old headache, hammering heartbeat, swollen face and shaking hands…” Dramatic, I know. You’d think that after being at it for so long I’d have gotten used to it by now, but it’s more than a blessing to me that I haven’t. I rue the day that I get used to headaches, hammering heartbeats, swollen cheeks and shaking hands because in my heart and in my head it’d mean that I gave up. My last episode was 3 days ago; between the last session with my doctor and the one today, I’d have had 2 episodes. To be honest, my average per week has increased; it used to be an episode weekly, but now it’s two. Naturally I can’t exactly be thrilled that my episodes have increased in frequency, and some of you might wonder if there’s anything to be thrilled about at all, but I am proud of the way I handle the post-purge.
A few months ago, I might not have handled the situation very well. I’d be sitting in the dark, listening to my sad music whilst cursing the world and myself for the misfortune that it had brought me. My world would’ve have been plunged in darkness and I’d be spiralling downwards towards the abyssmal recesses of mind, contemplating death, and suicide. (Speaking of death and suicide, I’ll be coming up with a post on that as soon as I learn to make it private. Someone close to me has read through my entire tumblr and I can’t risk that person reading just about everything about me.) I’d wake up heavy hearted and wishing that I’d never woken up. Some days I’d spend all day in my room, foregoing showers, food and social interaction, because I couldn’t handle the world that day. I used to dwell so much on my episodes that it’d take me days to recover. However, luckily to say that after a certain incident, those dark days are behind me. I’ve learned to look toward the light and move forward. These days, after an episode, I simply accept that it has happened and move on. It sounds easy said than done, and on some days nigh impossible, but it IS possible. While some people are overnight wonders, it took a while for me to get the hang of going with the motions and recovering quickly from a post-purge. I suppose I have Buddhism to thank for that, and maybe another therapeutic tattoo, but those things aside, it was really about putting things into perspective and seeing the bigger picture. there is a lot more good than bad in this world. Just because I had an episode doesn’t mean Earth and it’s 8 billion inhabitants are loathsome, evil things. Despite the bad and the ugly, there’s always something to be grateful and appreciative of. There are still pockets of beauty and goodness. Acts of compassion and kindess still exist; it just takes an open mind, open heart and a discerning eye to see.