6/22/17

i'm thankful to try to come up with a metaphor for how i feel when i feel like this. i'm thankful that i think the best one i can come up with is like when you have a microphone hooked up to your computer and you're monitoring it on headphones and you turn up the gain very high, such that the meters spike into the red and all the hidden sounds of the world that usually pass unheard in the background (the noise floor) are not only suddenly audible, but ever-present, excruciating, overwhelming. i'm thankful for that metaphor for how my body feels—like every tiny thing is magnified and reverberates through my nerves. i'm thankful to hold my hand against my chest and feel my heart beating to remind myself that i am alive, that it continues to beat and keep me here.

i'm thankful to describe how when it gets very bad, it makes my body feel like it's constantly vibrating uncontrollably, like i am on a moving train, a ride i want to get off of but can't. i'm thankful that i am good at doing breathing exercises and try to do them even though at times like this, doing them feels like shooting godzilla with a rifle (i.e. pointless). i'm thankful for yoga, which is similar. i'm thankful to try to use coping strategies even when they don't work and that makes the concept of coping feel hopeless. i'm thankful to do all that i can do, which is try to ride out the storm of emotion and sensation. i'm thankful that storms always eventually end. i'm thankful that often the world looks very beautiful after a storm has passed.