Playing with fire

The dark passenger is back. The persistent backseat driver has moved to the front seat, tired of whispering in my ear, of looking over my shoulder while I ignore her. She is right here with me now, taunting me, tempting me.

I am playing with fire, flirting with darkness. I know that. But so far, I am in control. Or am I? How do ever truly I know whether I do something because I want to, or want to do it because it lessens that constant, nagging anxiety? And I am aware of my addiction to this, to these things. I know I will want more, I know how quickly it can reach a level of almost obsessive-compulsiveness, I know all of this.

And yet, I'm playing with fire. Telling myself that this time is different. This time I will remain in control. Maybe I'll prove myself right, maybe I won't. At this point, I don't know. Will it escalate or stop? Will I escalate or stop? But I will not cut my arms open, no matter how much I may want to, in the spur of the moment. That would just be too hard to hide. So I remain in control.

How did it start, again? Gradually sinking lower into depression, and then, mounting anxiety, even panic attacks. As I realised that I am not entirely depressed, that I could see much clearer what was me and what was, is, the illness, the depression, it was as if it changed. Granted, I am still depressed, suffering from painfully low self esteem, lack of initiative, lack of energy; I have lost my appetite, I cry easily, and I want to harm myself – but at the same time, I am happy and positive. Being able to see (feel) this means that I am not the depression, I am not the anxiety. I suffer from depression and anxiety, but it is not who I am.

Unfortunately, the panic attacks, being all tensed up and struggling to catch my breath, is pretty draining. And it affects my dance. I hate it, but am realising that I don't let it control my life; I try to lead a normalish life. I go out, I meet people, I work. When I take on my professional role, no one will ever notice what's going on. My friends, my Sisters, they see more. They feel me vibrating, physically, emotionally, mentally. But this is my transformation to go through, the fragile shell I feel around me is what remains of my walls, and because it is so thin, I have to protect myself. I don't let many people in. I can't. I won't. But every breath I take is a victory, every morning I wake up stronger, closer to breaking through the shell and spreading my wings in freedom, beauty and power.

I just pray that things don't go too far before then, and that the breakthrough isn't a breakdown. I am worried, and a bit afraid. Because I do want to harm myself – not seriously, just a little. And I have lost a bit of weight because of having no appetite and sometimes being too tired to force myself to eat, and even though I doubt I've lost that much, I am afraid that I might cross a line when I step through the mirror. I already have more thoughts of consciously making myself lose more weight, dieting, using these diet supplements. I register those thoughts, but I don't act on them. I just find myself reading the labels, comparing the nutritional contents, checking prices. It's a good thing they are expensive and I am way too smart to fool myself. I don't need to lose weight and I have no intention of doing so. Part of me wants to, but I won't.

Even so, I know that if I keep losing weight, it will be harder to resist as the dark passenger grows louder and stronger. So I pray that I will get an psych appointment soon and that I will keep making myself eat. More. I am not going back into the mirror! I am not making that particular journey again.

I know it's stupid of me to play with fire, but really, I don't know how not to. Even with the panic attacks that make me in a way worse off than I've ever been, and the incredible fatigue, depression etc, things are a million, billion, zillion times better that they used to be. I will get through this.