In One Split Second

It’s scary how much happens in one split second.

It’s scary,

Stood in a park,

blue sky,

sun peering through the clouds

expanding out into long diagonal lines through the leaves above me;

to touch my toes and the ground in front of me.

A stillness;

For one split second.

It’s scary

how in this same split second,

the stillness is disrupted by

the grapple with my thoughts and feelings.

Shame. Guilt.

"Why am I letting myself feel like this? Why am I pushing everyone away? Why did I let this happen? Why am I so reliant on people? Things won’t get better Stop thinking of him

He isn’t here anymore it’s so stupid you still think that Everyone else has moved on You’re stupid you’re stupid You shouldn’t be here anymore You can’t be here anymore I don't want to be here anymore. I can't do it anymore. Someone help. Me, myself, you need to help yourself. I'm scared. Make it stop. Stop it all now."

Guilt is adaptable, we can place guilt on external behaviours. We can be pragmatic and feel fixed from guilt; change our behaviours. We can admit guilt.

Adapt.

Guilt can be shared. And it can to some extent be co-regulated.

Shame is vulnerable. Self-destructive.

Shame is personal. Individual.

It’s scary how much happens in one split second.

It’s scary,

Stood in a park that’s now stretching out far beyond me,

blue sky,

sun starting to look blurry,

expanding out but never reaching to touch my toes and the ground in front of me.

I squint;

For one split second.

It’s scary,

Stood. And everyone you love stretches far away from you.

Everyone who you rely on for help. Everyone who you outsource your feelings too are pushed away.

Because that’s what you do, you disconnect.

Shame pushes you from feeling worthy of connection.

It’s scary,

Stood. And all of these connections are cut.

It’s scary,

Stood. Realising only you can notice and work with this shame.

Only you can take power, find your strength, and believe you can do it without outsourcing the reliance onto others.

It’s scary,

Stood. When the volume of shame uprises, when the volume of him is maximum.

When your body is fuelled with adrenaline.

When your mind tells you you can’t do it, you’re overreacting and this is so ridiculous.

It’s scary,

Stood. Grappling with this state of mind.

The way your trauma plagues your state of mind and the way you feel you fit into this now stretched out and hard to reach world.

The way your trauma convinces you you cannot meet the expectations society has now.

Because you’re broken.

It’s scary how much happens in one split second.

It’s scary,

Stood in a park,

blue sky,

sun peering through the clouds

expanding out into long diagonal lines through the leaves above me;

like the hands of support from others. That hold me, that I can call on. That I outsource to and use to help make me feel like I’m making progress.

But they are cut. It’s not their responsibility it’s mine.

I can’t be stood in the park forever.

But how can I believe that the same brain that makes me feel so worthless, be the brain I need to use to make me feel hopeful.