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She still kept the peppermint chapstick even though it was worn down.
She had gone nuts so many times it bored the masses. The frenzy was somewhat bearable for her (imagine thinking you're connected to the universe), yet the months and years of compensatory depression rather quelled her buzz. Yesterday, she had thought of when and how she'd end her own life. An orange cat climbing on her lap stepped on the keyboard purring and put an end to that massive written diatribe.
"How did it go with that one person you were to reach out to and tell them you were in a heavy place?"
She looked down ashamed. "crickets. but I'm not surprised. I'm kind of a drowning mess and it's tricky to care about me - best kept at fifty arms' lengths"
"so, you're alone?"
"So, I'm alone. I have the thought that I'll gift people with leaving them alone and not contacting them and being quiet and out of the way when I do family events."
"Has that been something you've done in the past?"
"look, I'm the most talkative loud boisterous person with tons of opinions and passion. I don't fit in anywhere I go - and only one person has ever taken me on fully, and I decimated that and only go back to it now in retrospect because I've failed so terribly and unexpectedly."
"What did you expect? What did you do to get what you said you wanted?"
"Thanks for busting me. I waited for someone to contact me or knock on my door telling me that I'm special and have a mission/place. I wrote two screenplays. they sucked. I have this hidden blog that I fill with sad or grandiose bullshit. I'm either too much or too dull. I'm pretty much drama except when I'm alone I feel that I'm like a vampire that hasn't had a bite in a century. From my training, I call that 'externally validated' or 'external source of emotional regulation'. I think I might have quite borderline and quiet ADHD but I'm currently alive so trying to find my way... it's been exactly what I asked for - being alone - and it's morbid".
Her second husband had always been very gift-y and was a lover of Christmas. One of the stocking stuffers he gave her on their last Christmas together was a tube of peppermint chapstick. It's empty unless you dig around, but she keeps it to remind herself of something.
"And the tattoo. It feels like you've brought that up for several sessions. Go ahead and spew"
"It's December 10th. I have that date written indelibly on my tramp stamp. It means a lot to me because it's the birthday of both my beloved first mother-in-law as well as the man I used to fuck my life up completely."
"that seems really insane."
"Yes, I got it on the day I got out of the insane asylum. To me, it also meant that when I could have died, I chose to ask for help to live. Not to try to elicit pity, yet much of my life has been stymied hopelessness and despair. I recall in Wilmington sitting on a window ledge daring myself to jump/fall and end it all. It's so bullshitty dramatic I know, but the feelings felt as real as you are. After my self-imposed exile... oh this is so dumb"
"I don't really care do you"
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