28 days off meds, 19 days until I leave for Peru. I feel displaced and uncomfortable in my skin. There are moments that I’m excited to go, and other moments of terror. On the whole, the excitement moments are losing. But I know this makes a difference, I know there’s an “other side” to this terrible process. So I try to wait it out. I try to ignore the sense of decay and collapse. Little bits of me flaking off, like Joe Chip.
My inclination is not to post this. My inclination, frankly, is to not say anything until this is over. I don’t fake things well, but I fake them anyway out of a desire to not have to talk about it at length. But I also remember how dark things got for me after I got back from Peru the last time and couldn’t reconnect to all of the good. Because I had shut down and hadn’t forced myself to talk about it as it was happening. So it took me almost a year to even begin rekindling that feeling and putting it into words.
So, here I am typing. This is for me. Please remember to read it later.
Read this. Thinking about you and S.
You are the coolest, Paul.