Its a little cramped in here but at least I know what to expect. Inside my bubble is everything predicable and safe. Boring yes, challenging no. I have a headache, my dental appliance broke for the 10th time and is beyond my repair. That means a trip or more to the dentist. That classifies as self-care and I am intimidated by the concept.
My bubble consists of my own little room in which I exist. My world has been shrinking as time goes on, unlike most who’s world expands.
While the purpose of the bubble is to insulate from the cruel and unpredictable, it actually increases anxiety by its very existence. It’s boring, yes and drains the life out of me. It also magnifies despair and the futility of life.
I keep trying to convince myself its for the best. A lifetime of heartache that no longer wants to engage with the human factor, not the least of which is my own humanity.
The bubble has a leak though and is losing air so my world shrinks and desperation increases. Looking for an escape is the only strategy that makes sense. The problem is escape means indoctrination into the greater world and that’s not an option. Very few alternatives provide a safe exit from my malfunctioning living space.
My mental illness is my bubble, I hope I am able to keep it together.
The Place to be Real 