I know, I sketched out pretty badly last night. But I am back, and better than ever (y'all).
I know. I have a problem. Why do I have this insatiable urge to add "y'all" to the end of sentences?
Unfortunately, I do not know. Life goes on. So, back to what I was saying...
There was a reason that triggered last night's post, but I do not feel it necessary to go into that. Sometimes the trigger that brings about that particular emotional state of mine is nothing more than an argument on a tv show. Sometimes it is of even less significance. Either way, my panic tends to send me spiralling deeper and deeper into "breakdown mode", which only gets progressively worse. It lasts for hours and hours and it's terrible. But yesterday, yesterday was different.
While wanting to hurt myself is no longer my first response to being upset, well, it used to be. On the last day that I did hurt myself (July 2, '08), I got into an argument with the ex best friend over my "ridiculous attitude to life", as I was feeling like crap for no reason and I met his suggestion of trying to "do something about it", do something that would make me feel better, with a petulant no. I didn't want to fight feeling like that, I didn't have the effort and everything just seemed too hard. I'm a little bit (read: a lot) of a pushover, I give up too quickly and am far too easily overwhelmed. I'd try to rely on others to help me feel better. While at the time I essentially ignored his advice and continued to whine like a spoilt child, that text message of his is one I kept and would refer to later, until, well, until I snapped the piece of crap phone in half. By accident!
So last night, I fought it. "Rise Above This" is the song that, since it was left embedded in a comment on one of my LiveJournal posts, back when I used it, has always been able to... buoy me. I wouldnt say it makes me happier, but it makes me feel stronger, encourages me to continue on. In particular, the music video means a lot to me. So I had this song on repeat and focused on calming myself, then made myself interact with my family. My mother, as usual, said something amusing, either through use of a new word in her vocabulary or a mixing up of a phrase, much like Ziva in NCIS.
And it was good, actively trying to get past it. I feel properly hopeful again. I know I'm getting better. It doesn't mean I'll stop missing those friends, or regretting what has transpired, but it means I'm not going to allow myself to walllow in self pity. I am not going to be that pathetic.