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I was cleaning my room, or trying to. I was doing laundry, or intending to. I was exercising, or at least my version. I hadn't eaten enough and suddenly I was very critical, of others, of myself. I was lonely. I was irritated. I felt like there would never be enough. Like I would never be enough. Like no one else would ever be enough.

I find myself using a certain relationship as a reminder. As a place of learning. But the things I am learning aren't all pleasant. And sometimes the more I try to find the positives, the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel, the more I know I'm fooling myself into the type of pain I've experienced before. Same old patterns. So what was really learned?

I dislike how my me-ness seems to raise this fuss, this alarm. I could turn off my mind, and know that everything is fine. This thought is not you, its not the reality of the moment. Nothing wagered. Nothing to lose. But my mind as my sugar level drops, my insecurity, reminds me that I haven't experienced anything else that draws me... and nothing is promised - but something is grieved.

I remember once being up all night worried -even though it was elementary school. It was not an uncommon thing in my childhood. I remember writing to Amanda, begging her for help. I didn't know her, not really. I just wanted my friend group to stay together. I just wanted to not be rejected. I wrote a letter, trying to appeal to her humanity, to her empathy, it would be nothing in the long run I assured her, just please interfere. Who else but the most popular girl could save my friendships from being dragged apart by the jealousy, manipulation, and desire of popularity. I never gave her that letter. Six months later, it wouldn't have mattered. Within a few years she was not the most popular girl anymore, a few years after that all my friendships had changed. It was painful. Sometimes it still is. I wonder what Amanda would think of that now. The idea of a 5th grader begging her to intercede. How completely ridiculous the whole thing would seem, and yet that night I was convinced that my world was falling apart, I had nothing else left but to beg.
How many times has that been the story I've told myself in the middle of the night, when things get the worst. In the middle of the 18 hour bus ride, when there is nothing but mystery beyond my uncomfortable seat. In the middle of a panic attack, when the world tightens like a vice. In the middle of a break up, in a goodbye...in the goodbyes that continue to haunt me. People wouldn't know how I carry those moments with me. They'd never guess how strongly I am dysregulated, and if I showed them they'd run.

Yesterday I felt like I was losing myself. I did some reading and found a light. Today again, I lost myself. Is this all there is?