I feel the need to explain myself to myself. I feel the need to analyze every aspect of my (inner) life. Why am I thinking the thoughts I’m thinking right now? What do my thoughts say about me? If I’m being hyper-critical, how am I responding to my hyper-critical thoughts? Am I challenging my hyper-critical thoughts, or am I using them to support irrational beliefs that I’m inherently weak and irrevocably damaged? Why am I writing—again—about my thoughts?
I have so much to live for, so much to look forward to. Still, when my overthinking goes into overdrive, I find myself returning to thoughts of suicide. I don’t have any plans, just a vague sense that death is easier than (my) life. When these thoughts arise, I hold on to my life. I think of at least one reason to stay alive.
For now, I must be patient. Healing takes time. I’ll keep writing because writing saves my life.