Distress lines

I’m sitting here on my bed on hold with a distress line

The irony is not lost on me

I’ve called one of these before

A long time ago

I was scared then

And I didn’t know what to do

My anxiety was so bad

I couldn’t leave the house

And my panic attacks were so debilitating 

I was so afraid of what was happening in my brain

And the loss of control I felt

It’s different now

I’m not scared 

And that makes it even worse 

Somehow 

I know what happens after the panic subsides

And the anxiety becomes manageable

Bearable

But these other feelings and thoughts remain

Like bitter reminders 

And the inexplicable sadness is suffocating

The quiet is haunting

The pain is excruciating 

And I do what we all do

I reach out


For someone to help me

To make it better

To stop the sadness so I can breathe

To shatter the quiet

To minimize the pain 

It’s been something like 10 plus years since the last time I called a distress line 

The only similarity between these two times, is the lack of hope I felt

Hope for better

Hope for different 

Hope for a sense of peace

There’s no hope in my heart

There’s none in my mind

There’s only the automated message reminding me that there are so many other souls out there tonight who can’t find any hope to hold on to either

Somehow that makes me feel a little less sad 

And the irony isn’t lost on me 

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