I feel like I need to write something and yet my words are scarce at the moment. Yet, it isn’t the deeper truth. There’s so much building within and whenever I am given a moment of connection with it, I hold my breath because I know how bad it is. The suicidal stuff rushes in like a stormy crashing wave. Then I end up feeling so very much on edge, wondering how long this will last and if it will pass without ever surfacing.
It’s so hard to find words for what is going on. It feels like things are whirling around me and inside me.