Unfortunate

Unfortunate that I’m having to use this site again. It’s a good thing all the fuss of a few months ago died down, I don’t feel any obligation to pretend to be the perfect missionary girl this time around. Now the issue is, now that I know I have one reader left, am I still writing for me? I think so. I hope so.

This was last night. I thought these things, and then went to bed. Upon waking up, I realized how concerning those thoughts were and wrote them down to document. “I don’t want to talk to Trevor, I don’t want to talk to or see any of them, I don’t want to go back for Advance, I don’t want to work at Lumber House, I don’t want to be alive but I don’t want to go to heaven or hell, I just want to be gone.” on loop for. A while.

I hardly ever get that bad. I actually track it when it gets that bad. It has been 23 days (minus whatever last night was) since I had a lingering suicidal ideation. Now. That sounds bad. However, at age 9 or so, I first heard the term suicide, and my mind latched on to it and would not let it go. Have I ever actually seriously considered it? I don’t really think so. It’s all been more passive stuff. 23 days is a long time to not follow a thought pattern that you’ve had for almost 10 years. The only issue is, this was the worst. In maybe a long time.

The whole bit about heaven sounds concerningly like deeper spiritual issues that I don’t have the capacity to work on right now. I’m doing worse than I had hoped I would be when I got back home. Now that March is over and I’ve settled into the routine, the endless weeks and months of work work work stretch out before me, and I dread each of them in turn.

Camp this year will not be the respite I’ve come to know it as, I fear. I am one of four repeat offenders. Four. Out of the maybe 30 people cycling through staff, minus the entire Ammons family, there are four people who have done this before. I’m ok with more responsibility, I think. I just can’t lead well. And friendship might be tough. Of the repeat offenders; one is dating an Ammons and hasn’t looked up to breathe since they got together. One I had a minor thing for last summer and won’t talk to me. (Fair.) One hates me because I was sleep deprived and snippy, and she was the butt of my grump. And one. Well. He’s my friend, but his girlfriend is coming this year, and I don’t know how clingy they are. (Nothing against clingy couples though).

This went way off track. Ok let’s reign it back in. I’m not really suicidal, but that doesn’t mean that those thoughts aren’t red flags to other aspects of my life. I did my first check in with myself in a while. Physical: 6. That’s just what it is. Emotional: right now, 7. But I haven’t been above a 7 in two weeks, and I have hit a 1 multiple times in those weeks. Mental: 5. This evening is a lot better than last. Spiritual: 3. I’ve forgotten God. Work requires me to get up early, and I spend all my energy there, then come home and sit on my phone, then go to bed. I have not set aside time for God. Worse yet, I tried to pray today, and couldn’t. I sat there for 20 minutes and the words wouldn’t come.

I knew I would crash. I was warned dozens of times, and yet. This is somehow worse than anything I could have expected, because it almost feels like I brought it upon myself. I expected myself to react like this, and so I did. I expected the seasonal depression to return, so it did. I expected my relationship with God to suffer, so it did. I expected to not know how to properly navigate long distance friendships, so I am simultaneously ignoring some and trauma dumping on others.

That’s why this blog is back. Burdening Trevor literally nightly with whatever junk my mind has hooked itself to this time isn’t fair. Sure, he may read this (hi), but it’s different somehow. I need to learn to rely on myself. I’ve hurt people like this before, I can’t let it happen again.

I feel like I’ve failed, in a way. I wasn’t fully “healed” or whatever. I was still struggling with my mental health during the end of DTS. But I went to God with it. I didn’t need this blog. I retired it. But now here I am, dragging out an old coping mechanism, because I got worse again.

My biggest fear is that I can’t staff like this. I can’t be someone that people look up to if I’m like this. I tried to give Seeleen advice, or just be there for her, and it all felt FAKE. I am right where she is. The difference is, I am supposed to be the wiser older leader. My fear is that I will always always always revert back to this. That this version of me is the real one.

There’s more to write about, but I can’t confront that yet. Or at least not on here.

I am okay-er than I sound, and yet when I am doing poorly, I hide how bad it gets.

I don’t even know anymore. Life feels unreal. Nothing feels real. It’s like derealization, but somehow different. I think it’s spiritual, but I also think that as of this moment, I can’t do anything about that.

Don’t tell my mom.