i do not know how to open my mouth. the words are dangling at the cusp of my lips but i never seem to know how/if/when i should say them. there are some things i need to say, some things i ought to let out. i type & i delete & i type again.

((i want to say: * ** ******. i want to say, * ** ******* *** **** ******* **. i want to say – * ***’* **** ** * *** **** ** *** **** ******.))

i am afraid of my words. i am afraid of the inevitable gaps in meaning between what i/you say and what you/i understand. i am afraid of how awfully repetitive i am, how awfully repetitive the words in response might be. i am frustrated because i know what to do, but i just can’t seem to do it. i am stubborn & determined in all the wrong places. raeann logic 101: if i don’t tell you about <blank>, you won’t give me suggestions on <blank>, so i won’t disappoint you if i take your advice and still can’t solve <blank>. conclusion – keep it in, push the people who love you away, and not waste anyone else’s time on a hopeless cause (me).

but words are words are words. i think i take them/myself too seriously. i worry too much about the weight of my words but then i let them build up inside of me until i hurt myself. raeann!they are! just words! you have to be here to say them. if you keep this up, you won’t be here at all.

((i want to say: i am scared. i want to say, i am worried you will abandon me. i want to say – i don’t know if i can hold on for much longer.))

and the weight of you not being here – the weight of an infinite unsaid words – it will hurt more than a few startling sentences. it will hurt so much more.

we went bouldering today, & i realised that i am very untrusting of my body / myself. i don’t trust myself enough to hold on, to let go, to shift my weight around without Falling. i am certain that it is / i am not capable enough, especially in the moment, and i am absurdly afraid of Falling, even when i know the probability of something truly bad happening is so minimal. lots of mental hurdles to get over with each and every move… lots and lots of shaky half-ascends.

but it is interesting to see my brain fog manifest itself in such a physical way. maybe… maybe i shall try again.

i don’t have much time to write this and so i will try to write this fast. lately i’ve been increasingly frustrated with words, with trying to find the right words to fully express how i feel, with trying to fully understand other people’s words. i want to say “thank you so much”, and “i’m so sorry”, and “you mean so much to me and i am so immensely grateful.” i wish there were better words i could use. it is hard to find the words.

but maybe we can connect with each other even without words. maybe true human connection transcends language. i’ve been reading quite a lot in the hospital because there is not much else to do. The Things You Can See Only When You Slow Down.

What makes music beautiful is the distance between one note and another. What makes speech eloquent is the appropriate pause between words. From time to time we should take a breath and notice the silence between sounds.

Haemin Sumin

the Loudness here overwhelms me.

i am trying to savour the sacred silence, the temporary stillness between the screams, the second-long pauses between the beeps of the crisis alarm, the fragile peacefulness of the night.

the tranquility that i know is deep inside me, somewhere, even though i can’t quite find it… yet.

one week, two hospitals, two wildly different experiences.

four long, long days of locked doors and mesh security window grills. of screaming and wailing, both distant and close by. of ‘medical’ restraints and crisis alarms. vandalised walls and expletives. children tucked away in a dingy basement, waving at people who don’t wave back. nurses that yell “shut up”.

(to put it across plainly:) days filled with shit and piss and vomit. pacing the room for hours on end. staring into space. head-banging, skin-gnawing, scratching, pinching, anything to quieten the noise within and around. medication four times a day.

but most importantly! the friends i made in this “hell” (i.e., people who understand completely, people like me, people i have heart-to-heart talks with sitting cross-legged on the floor). and the things i’ve learnt: that the illness is not my fault but my responsibility. that it is okay to be (truly,completely) vulnerable. that recovery is an ongoing, lifelong process. that only i can save myself.

i am home! snuggling in bed. the bad thoughts still come in waves, and when they do, the bad feelings hit hhhhard. but i am home, i am home, and i am so loved, and i (got to convince myself) i have so much to live for.

returning to school (to life,) next week with a vengeance.

three long, long days; of bedpans and iv drips and electrocardiograms; of potassium chloride and activated charcoal and sugar-free milo; of needles and swabs and blood pressure monitors. in the hospital i felt so safe and cared for, yet so alone. “how are you feeling?” they’d ask. i wouldn’t meet their eyes. i’d say, “i don’t know.”

it’s over, and i’m home, but i know that this is just the beginning.

i have a long! way! to! go!

and i will take each day as it comes.

a realisation: i tend to look at my life like it is one big domino effect, that everything has a consequence. that one wrong choice, one wrong word or action or gesture will lead me down the wrong path permanently. i am paralysed with fear and instead of fighting or fleeing because <i just can’t decide!>, i choose to freeze in place. i choose to wallow in my feelings and mull over the same thoughts, over and over again, hoping that i will reach a conclusion, somehow.

but life doesn’t work that way. life needs to be lived and not just… thought about. life is as concrete as it is abstract. i don’t actively appreciate the little things as much as i actually think about them. i love the sky, and the clouds, and the trees, but i don’t spend much time actually looking and listening and feeling. my mind is always somewhere far, far away. an out-of-body experience within the body itself.

i shall try to live tonight…! i shall lie in bed and feel the softness of the mattress, listen to the whirring of the ac, watch the candle flicker. i want to relearn how to experience good things again.

i‘ve been watching my life pass me by. they are playing volleyball while i sit, quietly, in the bleachers, writing this. but i suppose i don’t mind because it is fun to watch my friends have fun. they are smiling and giggling and laughing. :o) second-hand happiness!

today, i am grateful for having a voice, a voice that asks for things, a voice that says please, and thank you, and sorry. i am grateful for the concern, which i must remember isn’t an inherently negative feeling. to be concerned is to love & they will always be concerned. it is okay to be concerned. concern is inevitable. i am so grateful.

i am living for yesterday’s magical childhood, the raeann who wanted to be a rocket scientist/teacher/writer/musician/artist/[…]! there are so many beautiful memories i can’t bear to forget (years ago/minutes ago). my uncle gave me a children’s encyclopedia that i really loved; it was called “tell me about the world”. there is so much i still don’t know.

i am living for today’s difficult beauty, this strange period of Adolescence. there are many people walking with me, and i want to walk with each of them, too, one step at a time. i want to be still, be present, and make sense of the chaos somehow. i want to immerse myself in the conflict, this intermixing reluctance and determination to find my place in this world. there is so much to think about, and there is so much to feel.

i am living for the uncertain (exciting!) tomorrow, the people i’ve yet to meet and the experiences i’ve yet to go through. the raeann who’s a social worker/ teacher/ psychologist/ counsellor/??? [i don’t quite know, and that’s ok]. i want to see the world in ten, twenty, thirty years. there are so many possibilities, and there is so much i can do.

remember, there is so much worth living for.

---

Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

it’s the beginning of the september holidays; yet another week-long break from school. i don’t really know how to spend relatively long stretches of time on my own. there is so much freedom… to do good, helpful things, but also bad unhelpful habits that are hard to break. the tubular arm bandage has become a friend once again. an abusive relationship >:O

time is so strange. i think i am jay gatsby, obsessed with time. the new day overwhelms me because i am rooted in my past experiences/mistakes. “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past”…

it’s difficult to spend time alone. discounting social anxiety, i find that i am often happier when spending time with someone else, largely because there is a soothing Rational Voice (that isn’t mine) with me. but i know that i need to develop a Rational Voice of my own, one that counters the sick one: a discourse within my mind, a relentless back-and-forth until real raeann emerges triumphant one day…! it will take Time…

… more than a week, definitely. >_< but maybe this week alone will be helpful, somehow.

1. think. write. text/call/talk to someone. express how i’m feeling in Words.

2. [if i can’t find the words] draw! paint! doodle! watch the ink seep into paper. embroidery. beading. repetitive, soothing actions.

3. listen … “you’ll be ok” playlist on spotify. worship music. play the piano, the ukulele, the guzheng. sing. hum. make noise.

4. sleep it off. sleep early. don’t let the bad thoughts and feelings stew in your head at 3am. let them come to you in your dreams.

5. breathe. (remember your exercises. time to start doing them.)

6. be alone if you need to, but don’t isolate yourself. get away from the noise, but be wary of the noise that comes from within. let someone know where you’re going. take a walk. stare at the clouds. be still.

7. read… poetry (the ones you’ve bookmarked in ‘notes’). mary oliver! the poetry blog you follow on wordpress. if you can’t find the words by yourself, take comfort in the words of others.

8. pray …