I’ll do what I have to do.

I had skin cancer removed today.  The doctor scraped and grated the cancer right off my shoulder, then set to cauterizing my skin with fire.  The smell of burning flesh and a trail of smoke encircled me and lit my memory ablaze.   I relish the burn. I am pleasantly reminded of a time when I would burn myself with cigarettes.  It looks the same.  I am surprised at how the desire to self-harm has been . . . rekindled, shall we say.  I’m tempted.  I now have a beautiful burn mark on my shoulder that will compete with
every other inch of skin on my body for occupancy as a scar.  It’s precious.  It reminds me of a time when I needed more intensive help and received it. I miss those times.

Isn’t that what we have to do?  Think back to a time we are able to cope by any means necessary, because without those mechanisms we would have withered to dust?  Don’t we have to do what we have to do?

But really I’m fine.

I stress because my job will probably be cut at the end of the year, and I don’t want to face what I need to do.  The numbers are not promising a need for me next year, and I’m the easiest one to kick off the island.  A job that looked so promising is now going to terminate, just like me.    No job.  No money.  No purpose.  No me.

I’m really fine.  I’m keeping it together like a good little soldier.  Isn’t that what we have to do?  Keep it together no matter what?  Don’t we have to do what we have to do?

And the paradox is that I should probably return and see Therapist because I might be needing some help, but I won’t go back.  I have too many bad memories from this year where he didn’t listen to us.  And I don’t know if we should be hurt that he hasn’t checked in with us since we left.  Yes, we should reach out if we need help, but doesn’t eight years with Therapist count for anything so that he would want to check in.  Do the boundaries have to be so damn stiff and unrelenting that he couldn’t cross the line for a second to see how quickly we are dying?  Maybe I’m being passive-aggressive.

But isn’t that what we have to do?  By any means necessary to survive?  We do what we have to do. 

But really, I’m fine.