Talking yourself down off the bridge

This is kinda an embarrassing thing to admit but I thought that maybe I am not alone in this thought process.
I have lots of imaginings, like we all do but some are specific scenarios that I play over in my head and have done for years. 

My acceptance speech at the world’s most glamorous awards show, my concentration camp choir singing ‘Hallelujah’, my speech when I receive an honorary doctorate for being a very impressive human. 

So this is one of these imaginings…. 

Sometimes I picture that I am crossing a bridge and see a person who is about to take their own life by jumping off. 

I start talking and connecting with them. 
I don’t say all the clichéd things that *dumb therapists say, I say real things like, 
‘Yeah, the world is fucked and hard and it’s really difficult to get through’ 

I tell them that I struggle everyday to get through and sometimes it feels so hopeless and I also think about doing what they are doing. 

We talk for a while and they get angry with me saying it’s different for them and I say 
‘Sure, it’s different for us all and that’s why we need you, we need your voice, we need you to keep fighting so you can show us one of way out. We need you’ 

They slowly soften and take my hand. 

Without knowing all we say is caught on camera and TV stations air our words and all the people who we care about but don’t seem to know how to care for us, hear these words and understand our illness is real and that we are really brave for getting through most days. 

The people I love finally understand that even though I work, perform and am out and about, I struggle through it. 
They finally see me. 

Cut to a bar when one of my mates looks up at the breaking news with tears in their eyes and then clutches their heart and yells in drunken pride ‘That’s my friend, THAT’S MY GOD DAMN BEAUTIFUL FUCKING FRIEND’ 

Cut to a lounge room of a swanky hotel and my distant and cold sister looks up and then covers her mouth in emotional shock, then runs to the door grabbing her keys and coat. She phones her secretary while she’s getting a cab (it’s NY in case you didn’t guess) ‘Cancel all my appointments this week, my sister just… her voice chokes on her sobs. 

Cut to the bridge, we are coming down to relieved and loving first responders with blankets.
The person on the bridge and I hug and they say thanks for helping and I say, ‘No worries, we all struggle and it’s highly likely I’ll need someone to help remind me the same things.’ 

We exchange numbers and I say ‘If you ever need a friend, I’ll do all I can to be there, but if I can’t try another friend, you are loved’ 
I walk off into the arms of the dark city….. 

Now I am all-willing to fess up and see the hero myth being played out here and also my need to acceptance and community support and the ego stroking here is next level.
I can see my daggy foibles in full sun and it makes me laugh at how delightfully and silly and human I am. 

So today I was thinking about this specific scenario and it dawned on me (sometimes it takes a while for me to get the obvious) that I am the person on the bridge. 

I know right! 

This is better than Inception. 

I am the one talking to myself through these moments and I am my own rescuer. 

And you know what, I am super stoked that unconsciously I was creating a story that helped me rescue myself. 
That my infantile brain (and I don’t mean this as a put down, as there are parts of my thought process that are very infantile due to abuse as a child and escapism is a way of dealing with that abuse, just as there are part of my thought process that are very wise and aware) created this way of me loving myself back off a ledge. 

In my escapism I created a story where I saved myself. 
I only just worked out how fucking clever my subconscious brain can be. 
How cool is that! 
No wonder I am practicing my honorary doctorate speech.

*as opposed to smart and insightful therapists who I adore.