I’d love to say that it’s been lovely to see you. That your cold embrace was a welcome relief for this 8 month long hot flush. That your familiar self-loathing keeps me company in my emotional isolation. I’d love to say it’s been lovely to see you. I can’t fight you now, I can’t fight anything now. I just sit helplessly as you weave your shackles around me once again.
Opportunistic. That’s what I’d call you. Running in to capitalise on the new punishment for nourishment. It’s not your punishment, but you can adapt… improvise… overcome. It’s admirable, really. Flexible, mutable, malleable, fluid. I’m worried that you’ll stay; that I still won’t have the strength to re-tame you when this is over. That you’ll keep me from coming back to myself. That I’ll become you again. I know I’m powerful enough to defeat you. It’s just that I don’t believe it.
I feel guilty, and ashamed of the part of me that keeps discreetly thanking you. Thanking you for arriving now because if it had been the other extreme, you’d have shown up later and maybe/probably stronger. I don’t know if that’s true. That’s not my reality. I can’t know that. And you know I can’t. That’s why you’re so good at what you do. Searching, always, for chinks in my armour, imperfections in my strategies, weaknesses in my torus field. Filling them with your familiar colours so they catch my eye and draw me into you.
I don’t consider myself one who is “fighting demons every day”. Not anymore. We battled so furiously, then. That, that was fighting demons every day. You, and your friends; your clever little Roundtable of mental illnesses. But really, if I’m completely honest with myself and you, you’re always there. Skirting the edges for a way in. The difference right now, is that I simply don’t have the energy to continue sending you away. You get too close… too quickly. And then you’re tangled around my feet, sitting on my chest, and taking what you want from me.
I don’t have answers. I don’t have ransom demands to reclaim myself from you. I don’t have a battle plan, or a war cry. I don’t have much of anything. But I do wish I could say it’s been lovely to see you. Comfort in a difficult time. A friend who knows me so well. I wish I could vow to fight you tooth and nail when the fog clears. I wish I could vow to heal all those cracks in my defences against you with poise and power… properly… once and for all. But I know you’ll always be with me. And I know that in so many ways I’m to lucky to have met you, you taught me so much about myself, and the power I hold.
You might be quiet tomorrow. Processing this. So I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but I’m sure it will be soon. I wish I could say it’s been lovely to see you.