Floating alone in the coldness of space.
Spinning. Aimless. Untethered.

Drifting along, miles deep in a black ocean.
Drowning. Sightless. Under pressure.

Lost.
Dying.

I’ll never see again.
I’ll never breathe again.
I’ll never laugh again.
I’ll never live again.

Until I find you again.

Until your beacon cuts the black.
Until your hand pulls me up.
Until your love brings me back.

God help me. That is an honest plea.
Give me strength.
Give me light.
Give me hope.

She might save my life. She might kill me.

—————

I don’t want to share that. Too many voices are saying it’s too much, that I’m crazy; people will start to worry.

But it comes with a story. Together, I feel they’re worth sharing.

—————

I wrote this when I woke up in a panic a few nights ago. Waves of fear and anxiety and hopelessness and powerlessness washed over me and I got stuck in this dark “thought-spiral.”

There’s a lot going on right now. I’m actively trying to be more open and vulnerable; less afraid of pain; less prone to run and hide from dark and scary shit. I’m trying to change my life: my career, my priorities, my religion, my relationships. I’m letting myself admit that I want things, that I don’t want to settle; a lot of fear comes with that.

And there’s a few thousand miles and a big ocean between my bed and I.

All this led to feeling like I’d never be happy again, never be whole, never find peace. And I was trapped in that feeling for a while. I thought it might just be my new normal; one day I’d die feeling like that.

And then I put on a guided meditation by Above & Beyond and Elena Brower, which had helped in the past, and I pulled out my notebook.

I got a first draft down in frantic scribbles.

Then I didn’t eat for a day. (Admittedly, my hangover didn’t help with that.)

And then I barely slept that night, and I barely ate the next day.

On day three, after poking around with my thoughts and exploring the experience itself in personal notes, I found what I wanted to say.

Emotions are a motherfucker. They’re both hyperbolic in the extreme and perfectly valid; which of those holds true just depends on the time of day. When you’re deep in a spiral, there’s no amount of rational thinking that will pull you out of the hole you’re digging. I tried and failed completely, and I’ve always fancied myself a rational guy.

When you’re out of the deep water, it’s hard to remember exactly how dark it got. I feel leftovers of it: a shortness of breath, a knot in my stomach, but the rest is a dream.

It’s crazy. I guess I’m a bit crazy. I hope we’re all a bit crazy; that it’s not just me.

But it’s not all crazy. I did learn from the fears. I’m starting to uncover some buried shit. I think I have abandonment issues, for example. I think I’m pretty pissed at my mom for just vanishing without any warning or explanation. That’s unfair, but it wasn’t fair that I didn’t get to say goodbye.

And since I got no warning six years ago, I now look for warning signs everywhere. I over-analyze every text message and sideways glance. If I can see pain coming, I can prepare myself. I won’t get blindsided, left in shock and crippled. But now I see shit that isn’t there and steel myself for no reason. Now I know.

Things get crazy. This shit is hard as hell. But so far I’m still grateful. I didn’t want to sit with any of this. I wanted to be home so I could drown myself in video games or whiskey or weed or anything to distract me. But I’m glad I didn’t have that opportunity. Today I feel better than I did four days ago. The strength, light and hope came. I guess sometimes prayers are answered.

Oh, and if you feel caught in a dark loop: “Flow State” by Above & Beyond, a felt-tip pen, and a cherished notebook might just work as a lifeline for you too.