a Scarlet D

(I am fully aware that this reads like 7th grade angst poetry but I don’t have it in me to rewrite/edit.)

It’s the time between distractions that’s the hardest. Between therapy, clinic, ketamine, dinner with friends. Those distract me from myself – thanks to friends. They distract me from my mind – thanks to ketamine. They distract me from my time – thanks to the clinic. Unfortunately, therapy often distracts in the wrong way – thanks to poking at my psyche.

There are only so many movies you can watch, or shows you can binge. When you have no interest in anything, it’s even worse. We all flip through options on streaming channels without ever choosing anything. And we all watch short videos of things that are the equivalent of cholesterol for our brains.

My friends are so expensive. The cost of getting out of bed. Showering. Dressing. Going. In the end it’s a return to home wiped out. They are worth it though, and they make me laugh and I make them laugh. That’s good for me, I’m sure.

Inevitably, I am going to end up back home. Maybe I’ll go straight to bed to not sleep for six hours. Or I’ll binge something on TV without really paying attention. And then I’ll go to bed and not sleep for six hours. But most of the time I feel alone and bored and I have this pain in my chest. Maybe that’s my soul. But all I can do it be there and wait out the clock. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I’m not interested in anything.

I don’t know how many people understand the between. It’s just being alone with your thoughts or raw emotions. Just waiting for something to kick in and help. Or waiting for the energy, motivation or hope to try something helpful for yourself. Just how many hours there are between things. I know structure would help, but that’s another topic for another day. Friends say they’ll see me soon. Clinic techs say “See you next week.” Today when my Therapist said “Hang in there,” I wondered if they know how long that is when you have no landmarks on the sea?