Lately, I’ve just… been trying my best to explain myself when things start getting bad.
I’ve spent most of my life trying to stay silent because i didn’t want to bother people, but… but no one can help me that way.
So instead, when I start to teeter, or when things get bad, I just… try to explain it. Usually to my mom… she’s actually studied and learned a lot about the sorts of problems I face, and she’s good at helping me process things.
It’s hard. It’s REALLY fucking hard. I stutter a lot, and ramble, and the words always come too fast or too slow, this big jumble. There’s too much inside me, and it needs to come out, and I can’t get it out right sometimes. I wave my hands around a lot, and stop to make sure she doesn’t want me to shut up.
She doesn’t.
And so I try my best to explain how I feel. The choking up, the tears, the need to hide. I try to tell her why I start to feel bad, what thoughts get into my head. I just… talk, a lot. I’m so desperate to communicate this pain to her in a way she’ll understand.
I feel stupid, trying to explain why… for example, I haven’t called the very kind psychiatrist who I have chatted with several times before, simply because the thought scares me so bad I collapse in tears.
But she listens.
And I guess I’ll keep talking
