Disconnected waiting.


I am waiting. No idea what for, but I’m waiting, because that’s what people say. Wait. Give it time. Things will change. Slowly, gradually, infinitesimally – but they will change.

Thing is, I don’t believe this. I think this is it. That once you’ve stood on the edge of a dimensional shift, there’s no way back.

So I am waiting for nothing. And, sure enough, as the song says, nothing’s arrived.

I’m allowing others to believe what they want to believe because I have no more explaining in me. And there’s something invalidating about trying so hard to make people understand, when all the time you know they don’t agree with you.

I am untethered by a sense of purpose. I’m disconnected from all the ties that used to contain me within life.

All I have to hold on to, weirdly, is the routine of food. However painfully, I can achieve another bite of a sandwich, or more of a fruesli bar than I did the day before. And I do remember that people who know me well say my ability to think flexibly improved when I weighed more than I do now.

And I’ve asked for higher and higher doses of medication – although even that gets the answer of “wait until ward round next week; we’ll discuss it then”.

But purpose comes from connections and I have no connections with people and animal-people in the way I had before. I do love – but in a dulled, foggy way. I don’t feel anyone needs me and I don’t feel able to be needed. And this numb dislocation doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

Wait, they say. Just wait.

Well, I am, but we’re not waiting for the same things.

So I’m folding cranes and wearing eyeliner. And waiting for an opportunity for the only change I think is possible.



About wordgirlwaffle

Mistress of the happy cheery covering an emptiness inside. It would all be alright if unicorns were real. View all posts by wordgirlwaffle

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