For the past 2 weeks I’ve felt sick – dizzy, achy…
Several times a day my stomach tightens and my head starts spinning…maybe it’s psychosomatic – I don’t know. But my mind won’t stop – the same old thoughts: I’m disgusting, damaged, dirty, shameful…thoughts I cannot share, thoughts that must be contained in silence. I have learned that it is better to hold them in then to let them out, speak them aloud. I know in my logical/adult mind, that it isn’t true, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel that way.
And DT validated for me that I can’t trust my instincts anyway – as if I really thought I could. That’s why no one can possibly care about me, love me…but at least now I know that it’s hopeless and I’m meant to be this way – never trust, never care…and definitely never share! If I could step back– I wouldn’t do it all over again. A friend of mine told me that I needed therapy. That I kept myself too busy to avoid what was really going on inside of me…I needed to get in touch with “me”. That was a good idea! And you know what? My tendency to keep myself too busy kept me from cutting, from puking, from LOATHING myself…. So, I guess I’d have to say that my friend was wrong! I’d like to tell her, “You’re so right… How do you like me now?” Now that I’m scarred on the outside – it matches the inside of me – the drugs, the anxiety, the depression…yes, staying to busy was absolutely the wrong thing to do…this, this beautiful and charming life, is much, much better! What the hell did she know?
I envy people that can just be normal…and I loathe those who don’t feel abused, paranoid, insane. I resent people whose biggest problem is, “What should I eat for dinner” and not, “How do I get out of eating dinner” or “I’d better not eat cheese – it really burns my throat when it comes back up.” I wonder what it would be like to not wonder how much money to put away in a health savings plan each year…how much will it take this year, how much money will it take to maintain some sense of normalcy. How much money will be spent on PDOC, Therapy, DBT, prescriptions – in an effort to keep me not only sane, but alive. And is it even worth it~ what is the price for a human life? Does worth depend on the person, or is everyone the same price? How much is too much? I'm pretty sure I would be found on the clearance rack ~ the little girl no one loved.
I can’t deal with it, not now, not anymore. I can’t do it anymore and I feel a loss because I push everyone away because of my “perceived” perception and underlying inability to trust. Apparently, I have always vacillated between being “really independent” and “really dependant”. And when I’m independent, I pretend that the dependent side of me doesn’t exist and my problems have been cured. I realize that I have buried the little dependent girl under layers of shame. I am ashamed of her and angry with her at the same time – that’s how I’ve controlled her in my life. That’s how I’ve navigated all of her pain. By yelling at her to shut up and stop ruining my life! But it obviously hasn’t worked – she’s still here – feeling scared and lonely, wishing someone would just take her away from all of this pain . I try to tell her that no one will, that no one will take it away….. Nothing can heal that part of me – I deserve the pain, the hurt, and everything else that goes with it. I know that DT tried, truly tried, to help me, to show me that she is *here*….but my head tells me that she isn’t here, that she doesn’t care because she changed her “approach”. And she used to be here for me, at night, the times when I struggled, the times I feel alone and abandoned, and now she isn’t. I mean, get real, she actually tried to convince me that she thought I was a *good* person. Like each time I introduced her to a new skeleton locked away in the closet that is my past, she would shake its hand and hug it and accept it. And that’s truly unfathomable to me. It can’t be….its all fucked up. She changed her “approach” because she finally realized that she can’t accept me because she is a good person and I am a bad person. I see the way she would look at me sometimes – like she didn’t even know what to say, like she was thinking, “I have no idea how to help this woman…I’m not even sure help is possible.”And I feel scared and overwhelmed and angry…and alone. I see the shadows – and experience the nightmares of dark monsters that seem so real I wake up in a panic…and when I wake up, I am not a grown woman, I am a child. A child crushed by hurt and pain. And I lash out at DT, in anger, as though it’s her fault; that she didn’t protect me and then the anger turns to sadness and confusion. And remorse, for hurting the one person who tried to help me.
I should thank her for her work during the past three years, or for even acknowledging that I do *exist* as a person. I need to thank her for telling me that I am worthy of kindness, that I deserve to be seen and heard, even if she didn’t mean it, I could never believe the words she would say. I can’t.
I wish I knew what would help – I guess there are no miracle cures here, huh? It’s not like I can isolate the *badness* in me and treat it with radiation, or cut it out like a tumor.
I am a burden to her…nothing but a tiresome problem, sucking up her time…and I know I need to just disappear. I see the writing on the wall. The giant letters that say, “She tried to earn your trust, then you trusted her, she pulled back and changed her “approach” and set strict boundaries. Can’t you see the writing on the wall? The next step: she will leave turn her back on you completely, leave you standing here alone, while she walks away, just as my mother did so many times in my life.” Only this time, it will hurt even worse, because DT did try to help me, she was nice to me –she at least pretended like she cared, my mother never did.
PLEASE! I don’t want to hurt anymore! I have to be the first to walk away.
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