The one thing, I think, that’s saved my life most consistently, was learning that it will pass. Like really getting that. Doing the work to change how I talk to myself when I start feeling unlivable, that I won’t get through. And it’s always those quiet times, isn’t it, when those notions kick in. I swear, when I’m curled in bed in the ear piercing silent, locked in epic struggle with my self, what really saves me and keeps me hanging on through it, is the idea that some day soon I might have to rise up, and own the fuck out of a situation that most people who don’t deal with what I deal with imagine as deathfear worthy. I welcome that fucking strife. It gets me out of the place that’s actually dangerous.
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