It never ceases to amaze me how one whole week of Feeling Really Great and Being All Productive can be completely obliterated by one single evening of Shaking, Sobbing, Deteriorating Crazy that just descends on me from out of nowhere. Nothing caused it, mind you. My mind isn’t off beating itself up for sucking in general, I’m not sad about any certain, specific thing; I just started sinking and couldn’t pull up out of it. So, instead I sat on the couch in a tight little ball all evening, trying to focus on a movie that Greg put in for us and wringing my hands like I’d just snorted a line while little white flashes of light darted around my periphery for no reason. Occasionally, I’d need to inhale so abruptly that Greg would dive to my side to make sure I was okay like I was on the brink of dying. (Poor guy; three months of this has to be making him wonder why he’s married me.)

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Okay, God,

 I’m exhausted with this now. I know I’m not one to argue with your judgment but seriously? Haven’t I done this enough? I’ve worked my ass off this round, not sitting back and taking it or drinking myself into dysfunction. I’ve been charitable and objective about my needs in recovery and I’ve changed my meditation and medication and eating habits and gone out and gotten some physical activity and rerouted my focus and talked to my therapist and gone to a different doctor and gotten out of the house to do things that I like and expressed gratitude and appreciation when I could and made amendments where I felt I needed to (no matter how outdated) and read scripture and self-help books and been still and tried to let You talk to me and had friends come to visit and literally every-fucking-thing I can think of to put into motion my feeling better and expedient recovery. I’ve held up my end of the bargain… 

…So, for fuck’s sake could I please just go for one whole week (or two) without contemplating opening a vein or overdosing on sleeping pills and wine in my bathtub? I’m literally begging You now. I haven’t had a week like that since early September, which is bullshit in itself because it almost completely wrecked the time around my wedding. (The week in Hawaii was bliss, mind you, if only I could have staved off those sleepless early mornings of quivering in my neuroses that I tried to hide from Greg in an attempt to keep him from worrying about anything on our heavenly honeymoon.) I mean, I don’t want to get all vindictive and fist-shaking and screaming stuff like “YOU OWE ME RESTITUTION!” but dammit, would it really damage me and my personal character development to be completely content and catch my breath for just a little while? I’m just wondering.

I appreciate Your consideration and expedient response in this matter.

Ever Patiently,

Castallare