splitting 9 AM. He awoke with tears in his eyes. He couldn't remember if he had dreamt of anything important. Did he dream of her? He frantically sat up and glanced at his side, his heart was racing as it beat out of his chest. His entire body tensed and he felt as if he couldn't breathe at all, like he was having a heart attack. She's still here. Relax, she's right here. Just as his breathing slowed, she sleepily greeted him. He wiped his eyes, masking the loose tears as part of his wake up ritual. Everything is fine. Lay back down and enjoy your morning with your girlfriend before she finds out you're a fucking psycho who just woke up with a panic attack.

10 AM. Did I remember my appointment with my doctor? I don't have the energy to go through all of this. Maybe I forgot about it. Happens all the time.

11 AM. Today is going to be a very good day!

11:30 AM. Why haven't I heard from my family all day? They said we were making plans today. What the fuck are they doing? Do they even care that they are making me wait like this? I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM THEM ALL FUCKING DAY. He breathed slowly. He closed his eyes. He counted to three. He started thinking of the many logical reasons why he might not have heard from them. They have wonderful, busy, productive lives. This is a good thing. Today is going to be a good fucking day. I love my family so much. I'm so lucky to have them.

1:00 PM. TODAY FUCKING SUCKS. I can't believe I'm still dealing with this shit. I've worked hard, right? I haven't freaked out all week. I've been handling things. I've been there for them! Time and time again, I do this to them because I'm fucking evil. He was holding his phone, staring at the messages he sent to his brother where he called Simon all sorts of names. The phone suddenly vibrated in his hand, and the screen flashed Lydia Rosado's name. He answered his sister's call but before he could get a word out, he silently cried into the phone.

2:00 PM. Slower breathing. Hands have stopped shaking. The sun was now peaking in through the blinds of his bedroom. It looked like it was a nice day outside. Lydia is the best person in the world. Simon is a saint who puts up with all of my shit. I'm really lucky to have them in my life.

dissociating Everything was planned and going the way he wanted it to. But he couldn't remember where exactly he had learned to bake. It felt like something that he did lifetimes ago. Or maybe something that he watched someone else do and then he picked it up? He didn't have much time to dwell on it, he was busy prepping and getting things ready, and now all of the breakfast foods were made. But he was slightly disturbed that he vaguely remembered making them in the first place.

He used to bake on the commune. Back then it was a requirement. There was flour on his hands. They looked just the way his hands did when he was 5 and the tops of his fingers were beaten with a long stick until they bled, all because he was...No. I'm not doing that on today of all days.

He used to bake on the commune to survive, now he baked for the joy of it.

compulsive One more drink! One more drink!

He picked up the phone and drunkenly dialed Scott Adler at 3 in the morning. Then he rattled off a laundry list of things he wants, asking him to buy over $20,000 in luxurious but needless items. His manager reminded him that he's NOT his accountant and hung up.

Jamie called another 14 times. 14 times in a row he dialed until Scott answered and yelled at him to talk to his doctor! Maybe he's right. He proceeded to buy everyone in the bar drinks and racked up a bar tab of $11,425.

dissociating (self harm) At his grandma's house, everyone was laughing. Simon said something funny. Jamie laughed autonomously but not passionately. He could see himself spending time with his family but he felt like he didn't really know any of these people. Do they even know me? I don't even know me. Am I a musician? Am I a lover? Or am I just a poser and a lovesick fool?

5 PM. He tried to think about how excited he was to be with his family, but instead he reminded himself how far he was from his girlfriend, the love of his life. Stop it, no more pain.

5:30 PM. He had no idea what he'd been doing for the last 30 minutes. Lydia was telling a story, but he missed all the details.

9:00 PM. He stood in the bathroom and stared at his hands, his arms, his bare chest in the mirror, for much longer than he intended. Jamie stepped out of the bathroom, put one foot in front of the other and he walked back into his bedroom and plopped into the bed. On his nightstand was a lighter and a smoking pipe; most likely it was Simon's, but that doesn't stop him from picking up the red lighter. He twirled it in his hands. Flicked the top once. Flicked it twice. The flame lit up and danced before him. He hovered his palm over it, closer. Closer. The heat began to spread across his skin. It turned from a blanket of warmth into a piercing sting and he quickly shook his hand away, flexing his fingers from the pain. Maybe I need to go to bed. He breathed out, slow, as heat still radiated from the wound on his hand. No, this is too far. He got up and sought out his brother, who he knew was still awake somewhere in his grandma's house. He'd at least talk to him, now that he could feel something again.

splitting The words repeated over and over again in his mind. The date, the time, the location, the names. The date, the time, the location, the names. I fucking HATE her!

2:00 PM. No...you don't. He stewed on it. He replayed their last argument now, more words over and over again. How am I such a fucking dissapointment? I can't believe I ruined everything. The feeling gave him panic. I ruined everything. The realization hit him, and that familiar heart attack like effect began to take over his body. This is my fault. WHY did I react the way that I did?!

Fuck her.

No, I'm getting on the phone. As soon as possible. Thank god he had a great therapist. It was time. It was beyond time. He couldn't go on pushing down these toxic thoughts in this way anymore.

On the phone call with his therapist, they talked about why he was splitting. Jamie was more than familiar with all the terms and meanings at this point in his life. "I don't think I deserve her friendship." He slowly muttered.

"I...I never apologized. I've been cycling over this so many times trying to figure out what I did wrong and I realized I never apologized. All I want to do is say how sorry I am. For everything."

getting healthy again Four sessons down, and Jamie is at least back to using his coping methods instead of ignoring them. He knows the next step: he needs to face the issue that he's been trying to run from for far too long. He couldn't do it right away, but he's put in more work at getting to a better place now.

He has to remind himself that he can see so much clearer now. His fears are valid, but they cannot hold him back from living his life; they cannot rule the way he sees and interprets the people he cares about. One step at a time, reprogram the brain to speak kinder to yourself. One step at a time. Be kinder to yourself, Jamie.