Coming Down to Finding Your Way Up

“What’s it like to come down?”⁣ she asked. 

⁣I didn’t think I could truly articulate it with words, probably a face or a sound would suffice. Last night though, this came out, and I eerily surprised myself. It was as if the response was on deck in an incubator file stored in the back of my throat just waiting for the prompt.

“You’re under water but you can breathe, it’s dark but you can see, and there’s a door but you can’t reach," I said. 

⁣For some reason these words actually sound rather poetic and pretty strung together, but they aren’t meant to in the least— it’s the scariest thing for any person wired like this. ⁣

Every time I came down, like really came down, enough to be level headed for a couple days-- I vowed to myself that I would never do that again. That I never wanted to feel that way again. That I was done. It was not even days later, sometimes hours later that I would forget that profound promise I made and pick up what so quickly caused so much pain.

The morning I woke up from the last time I used I had graduated from being under water in the darkness in front of a door to being a lab rat pacing around a 400 ft studio above a garage. I did not know it then, that it would be in fact the last time I used, but I proceeded to come down for the last time.

I asked for help, and I decided to come up. 

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