Three weeks ago or a little less--honestly my sense of time is shot-- I cut my finger washing a glass. It was chipped on the edge and I had accidentally got my pointer finger cut pretty deep.
A little over three weeks ago, closer to a month, I started drowning.
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The lived reality of drowning this way is a weird one. I spent all of yesterday crying after a group project call drained me. Still went out to Walmart with a roommate and had a good time. Played bass when I got home. Cooked and barely managed to get through the full plate. Texted my mom being fully honest about how I'm doing. Cried more. Celebrated and congratulated a great thing happening to a friend. Jammed with the house band. I'm emailing my TA's about getting supports. I'm meeting up with a friend to go out despite the snow in under an hour. The idea of opening the online class portal for anything fills me with deep dread and anxiety. I'm having a good time hanging out. There's a shadow looming behind me and I'm keeping my eyes forward.
I was explaining it to my roommates yesterday. It's like touching fire. I touched fire. and it was bad. and now I don't want to touch fire again, I'm avoiding it in every way I can. But I need to touch fire. Touching fire is what I signed up to do. I'm paying to touch fire. But it hurt me, so every time I feel the heat at my hands I recoil.
I want to have the flame protectant gloves everyone else has on.
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Just today I noticed that wound on my finger closed up fully. There's a light pink line where the cut was. The skin around it is a little rough, but its flush with everything else. No bump, no swelling.
I'm hoping that's what it'll be like to get out of the water. To realize that its only lapping at my ankles, or even that my feet are completely dry.
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