I went to a day treatment therapy program. I haven't been okay. That was the next step in getting better. We thought about happy thoughts and memories to go back to when we needed to just escape the stress of a situation; a safe space. Mine wasn't a memory or a happy place. Mine was:
A phone booth on a boat.
I sit on the edge of my boat, with my feet splashing in the water, feeling the salt stick to my feet as I kick the ocean, putting waves into motion across the world. I have that power. Looking down at all the busy little cars, so far, so helpless, so, just, not-my-problem. I'm not a part of them, I'm alone, isolated, thankfully. I could jump off my boat and into the water, with all the room and space to swim in, to drift away, to weightlessly float. The moment that the tides became rough or sharks swarmed, I could climb right back in, as long as I didn't drift too far. I could stand in my phone booth, safe from the weather, and talk to someone if I chose to. Never truly alone, but always just enough. The best part about my boat is that it's dependable, secure, and stable. My boat cannot ever sink, only if I let it.