Giving it a Name

9/18/23

It's better to bleed out, than in. Because blood clots only on the inside. Cracked and ruptured skin is better than an overly active prefrontal cortex. When the honeymoon phase was over, the dust settled again. This is my new normal, and sometimes I forget it is quite abnormal.

It was a symptom of something deeper. A preventative measure. A tactic of avoidance. I bent and changed shape, but I never broke. What was once a circle is now a square, and what once was out of my control, became carefully calculated.

I already knew. You see, the issue is that “sick enough” is a concept that overlaps in many different areas. We were on the same team, but I still fought against you. You tell me I am insightful, but never believe my insight. You understand the brain more than most people, yet are still asking for physical proof of damage. When we both know, the blood clots inside.

I already knew - so I didn’t need it. What I did need, though, was for you to trust me. And you did. Nobody goes through the lengths I did to get a clear answer. And, maybe that is just the issue. There is a name for it. So, thank you. Thank you for giving me the name. And thank you for REALLY being on the same team as me.

It was paranoia. I was not tidy and clean, and I was not perfectly organized. I was a mess on the inside, and on the outside. I washed “it” off. Not because I loved to clean, but because cleaning the outside also cleans the inside, right? I never looked at it, only away from it. Eventually bringing my gaze right back, only to “make sure of it”. My brain was always two steps ahead, talking but not thinking. It was 1 a.m, and I was twisting and turning. “TURN DOWN YOUR PHONE” I thought. Now I know, though, it wasn't a phone keeping me up. My thoughts were louder than any ringtone.

They called her Miss. Jacquie, but I just called her Jacquie. “They” is defined as the lady that bought the burnt orange button up today. The family that somehow lived in North Palm Beach. Somehow attended St. Clare's Catholic School, and somehow knew the person that saved my life. It's a small world, they said. But, I thought more of it. I don’t believe in “signs” until I am given one myself. The past few days, I’ve been thinking about her a lot. And there she is, right there in front of me, telling me, everything will be okay. And it will. She has given me signs before, so it is nothing new. And maybe I sound crazy, but I know she left for a reason, and I like to think that reason was me.

But, Grief is loss, and loss is not always a person. Though my thoughts and behaviors have been given a name, I lost parts of my own narrative. There is relief in that, but also a lot of sorrow. I grew up in a stable environment, it was so stable that I never saw the instability. I pushed it under the rug until it came back to bite me. I thought I knew myself, but it turns out, I never really did. I see glimpses of myself. Thoughts, creating anxiety. Always asking myself in the end, “Am I normal?” or “what is wrong with me?”. Convinced I was the crazy one.

I always found my way back to my rational mind, except for when I left. Life came at me full throttle. Everything pushed under the rug came out and yelled at me. Every thought came back, and I convinced myself I would never be the same again.

To this day, I still agree with that statement. I will never be the same. Because when a monster takes over, you can’t go back. After the confetti pops out of the balloon, you can’t put it back in. And maybe I am giving too much power to that thought, but I truly don’t think it is possible to move past it. And to be honest, I don’t want to try and fight that thought.

So to the girl with uncontrollable thoughts - you don’t belong in an insane asylum. Impulsive thoughts are just thoughts, and thoughts are not actions. And don’t forget, there is a name for it.

Pain hurt me more on the inside than it ever did the outside. The good news though, is that we don’t actually have to keep it on the inside. That was one of my biggest mistakes. I feared the monster in my head, but it turned out to be just trees. And once you give it a name, the less power that monster has over you. So, don’t let your blood clot, instead, let it out.