At least that’s what my last few days have been telling me. The past week has seen me in the hospital for suicidality again. It’s had me getting to know local police officers again. It’s had leaders in my store getting to know me that much better. It’s had me taking a leave of absence from work again. I’ve been cutting. I’ve been binging on candy. I’m without some of my meds and I’m not panicking or calling to get them refilled post-haste.
But at least I’m talking about it. At least I’m calling the hotline (207-774-4357 in Maine), I’m calling my shrink, I’m making and keeping appointments with my care providers.
It’s possible. You can be at the lowest possible point and someone can just take you by the hand to help keep you safe. It wasn’t the store manager who’s offered me the help time and again, but it was a store manager. He made sure I was getting to the hospital to be safe. Much like the manager who tells me to text him when I’m feeling suicidal the manager in question was there for me. Non-judgmentally and fully supportive.
I’ve never expected the kind of support from a job that I’ve gotten this week, but that support has come no hesitation. Just, “Yes, take a week’s leave to recover yourself. We’ll figure out how to cover it. Don’t you worry about it.”
And I’m not. Worrying about it that is. Instead I’m watching Netflix, doing some studying for a thing, walking with my computer nearby. And drinking caffeine. Of course.
my inner journeys 