#22 FIRESTORMS - An Attempt to Explain

A Firestorm follows weeks of tension, gallons of worry, tons of fear, acres of frustration and a simmering under-the-radar rage.

Attempts to shut it all off and dissociate inevitably bring disaster.

What I experience in a firestorm is nearly impossible to remember, let alone to describe.
It feels like I’m disintegrating, breaking into a zillion pieces.
Time stands still. I am suffocating. My brain is on fire.

I AM GOING TO DIE!

It is so terrifying that I sometimes, literally, try to outrun it - racing up and down in my apartment. I’ve smacked my head against a wall to stun it into submission. I’ve decided, time and time again, that the only thing that will bring relief from it, is suicide.

When I can‘t do it anymore, I will hurt myself.

I sometimes require medical intervention but mostly I have managed the injuries myself. The second the physical pain bursts onto the scene, the firestorm stops.

All is calm. My mind can breathe again.

I dress my wounds, if necessary. I put away anything that I have written during the storm. I try to swallow the shame and embarrassment. When morning comes I want to be able to pretend everything is OK.

I HAVE SURVIVED ONE MORE TIME!