I just found a video I made over a year ago when I was struggling. I wanted to share some of the transcript to honor the version of me who is still stuck there hating this version of me who is not.
"I am so lost right now. Like even right now speaking to you, which is me, I am pretty convinced I am not here. I am convinced that me, the who I am, is off somewhere; I don’t know if that’s locked up in a box or on an adventure in an alternate reality, but this right here, the body you’re looking at is just….a bookmark, holding the place for if and when I ever come back.
There’s enough of me left to function, to do my job, watch tv, put dishes in the dishwasher, even sometimes laugh at jokes, but this is not me. Because there is nothing in this body that can find a way to connect.
I’ve got nothing.
Everyone older I tell this to— about having a case of the 23s—talks about remembering that time. They talk about remembering how much it sucked. They can’t remember why or what made it stop other than time. There’s the part of me that says I just keep waiting for time to pass—go to bed earlier and sleep in later—and there’s that small part of me with some energy left to care, saying “fight back; do something; run away; join a circus. Do something here: just go on a walk. This isn’t who you are, so change it.” But I’m…I’m so tired and bored that I can’t actually muster that within the reality of who I am.
I can’t muster caring. I just don’t care. And I hate it. But I almost can’t bring myself to hate it.
So, one day, you will be watching this video, remembering with sympathy what that time was like.
And I hate you for that.
Because I don’t have that. I have this, which is nothing. I will hate you more if you don’t get to that point, if you stay in this awfulness, but I hate you for running away because I couldn’t figure out how.
Why won’t someone tell me?”