observations

The smell hits me and rather than being irresistible, it makes me almost nauseous. I open the lid. It's piled high with food. 

For the first time, I think I understand what people mean when they've had eating disorders and see a plate of food and think 'oh no'. 

Oh no.

My first bite: macaroni salad

Second bite: white rice

You'd think I'd be less picky about rice given that I've been starving, but it's bland.

I sample everything and then guzzle down one of the Hawaiian sun drinks like it's been much longer than 24 hours of going without water. 

It occurs to me this is the first substantial meal I've been able to keep in me since Wednesday or Tuesday.

Life seems to snap more into focus now.

I'm aware for the first time that I'm cold. My vision still seems almost cloudy and my attention isn't there, but things are focusing.

Do I even want them to focus on the first place?

Probably not.

I observe.

I worry about what I'll tell my therapist come Monday. 

I think about tomorrow and if he'll text me back.

About how I felt the need to say a reluctant prayer before I ate. Strange. God and I are on pretty poor terms at the moment. He's like a second cousin from across the country and I haven't written in a while. (I excuse it because the things they tell me about him don't sit right with me - they must have different beliefs and standards over there and I feel okay with how I'm living my life. I'm doing my best.) 

I put on a sad movie and then think twice about it. Do I really want to feel this way?

Why am I asking myself?

I leave it on in the background. 

I consider the suicide hotline ghosting me today. This is the second time they've done this mid conversation. Maybe it's because I brought up religion. Maybe Alex from 988 didn't think he could help someone that's been angry about not wanting to die enough.

Who knows. 

It's now I realize that this is one of the coping skills Hayleigh and I talked about in our conversation on Thursday night. She was my favorite of the people I talked to. She was engaging and professional but actually felt like she cared and had helped a lot of people before. 

(I hope she's having a good night tonight. I hope she knows she's changed my life.)

This falls under step 2 of my CRP (Crisis Response Plan) : coping skills. 

Specifically under Emotional Awareness.

I'm blogging. I'm noting my emotions. I'm feeling them. I'm engaging with them.

Maybe all this nonsense means something after all. 

Maybe it's actually worth something considering I'm not sure I'll do it. 

Die, I mean. Kill myself specifically. 

Not right now. Not tonight. 

There's always tomorrow, but not tonight.