Apr 2014
I do not feel well. I called off of work today due to exhaustion. I have tried to relax today to attempt to reduce the blood pressure but I don’t feel well still. I recognize that it is mostly my fault. I haven’t taken care of myself this week – well let’s be honest…I never really take care of myself – even a heart attack at 40 is not enough of a wake-up call to change my behaviors. I feel sort of shaky and weak and I really want someone, anyone to tell me what to do…but there’s no one anymore and so I will stay here within myself praying for something (?) sleep? Dissociation to take me away so I can escape all of it for awhile.
I just cannot turn around and ask for help. I wouldn’t even know who to ask. Why? I don’t know exactly. Fear… Maybe… Stubbornness…Perhaps. I don’t know why. When you get hurt it’s difficult to put yourself out there again – for fear of being hurt again. And right now it’s just easier to pretend to the outside world that all is well and I am a-ok – even though that isn’t true. But honestly, I don’t think it matters...anyway…the “truth”.
Aren’t I being a good little NitaAnn by not facing any of it? I mean, I did take all my meds today, and I slept til noon, up for a bit then a nap now thinking it’s time for bed again. Being physically ill along with my other mental hang-ups is not a good combination. The unrelenting darkness…it’s still here – it’s just as strong as it was before, but I will do what others expect of me…throwing it all into a leaky bucket so it does not bother anyone else.
I have nowhere to go for help, really. I am no longer burdening DT with any of this…it’s not fair – it’s just too much for him to deal with. Anyone really. Too many things, too much trauma from childhood, from the teens…and any work done this far has felt like someone putting a band-aid on a gaping stab wound. And I have perfected the art of pushing away from me anybody else who may want to care about me. I am so difficult to love. Ask my parents.
I don’t feel well now. And yet here they are – the overwhelming ‘feelings’…relentlessly returning to my front door, insisting they have their say and I remain their captive audience.
This won’t end well. There is no hope. There is only this. There is no hope. I want to wrap up in my blanket…into a quiet dark corner and cry and pray for something to make it all end. I need it to stop. It has to stop. Please, just stop.
I’m scared. 5 year old cries for DT, for his comfort, for the look of safety in his eyes. I want DT to help me but he isn’t here anymore…it was too much for him too. But I’m scared. Scared…miserable….frightened. No one to help. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t feel well. No help – but I don’t deserve help anyway. I deserve nothing. So I ask for nothing. I will never ask again. Never.
Stay away from me, everyone. I am no good. Not even my own mother would stand by me because she knew…she knew! DT knew! He knew too! I showed him all of me and he knew that I was bad. There’s no hope. There is nothing. I feel nothing. I will never feel. Nothing. I am nothing. Nothing.
I just cannot turn around and ask for help. I wouldn’t even know who to ask. Why? I don’t know exactly. Fear… Maybe… Stubbornness…Perhaps. I don’t know why. When you get hurt it’s difficult to put yourself out there again – for fear of being hurt again. And right now it’s just easier to pretend to the outside world that all is well and I am a-ok – even though that isn’t true. But honestly, I don’t think it matters...anyway…the “truth”.
Aren’t I being a good little NitaAnn by not facing any of it? I mean, I did take all my meds today, and I slept til noon, up for a bit then a nap now thinking it’s time for bed again. Being physically ill along with my other mental hang-ups is not a good combination. The unrelenting darkness…it’s still here – it’s just as strong as it was before, but I will do what others expect of me…throwing it all into a leaky bucket so it does not bother anyone else.
I have nowhere to go for help, really. I am no longer burdening DT with any of this…it’s not fair – it’s just too much for him to deal with. Anyone really. Too many things, too much trauma from childhood, from the teens…and any work done this far has felt like someone putting a band-aid on a gaping stab wound. And I have perfected the art of pushing away from me anybody else who may want to care about me. I am so difficult to love. Ask my parents.
I don’t feel well now. And yet here they are – the overwhelming ‘feelings’…relentlessly returning to my front door, insisting they have their say and I remain their captive audience.
This won’t end well. There is no hope. There is only this. There is no hope. I want to wrap up in my blanket…into a quiet dark corner and cry and pray for something to make it all end. I need it to stop. It has to stop. Please, just stop.
I’m scared. 5 year old cries for DT, for his comfort, for the look of safety in his eyes. I want DT to help me but he isn’t here anymore…it was too much for him too. But I’m scared. Scared…miserable….frightened. No one to help. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t feel well. No help – but I don’t deserve help anyway. I deserve nothing. So I ask for nothing. I will never ask again. Never.
Stay away from me, everyone. I am no good. Not even my own mother would stand by me because she knew…she knew! DT knew! He knew too! I showed him all of me and he knew that I was bad. There’s no hope. There is nothing. I feel nothing. I will never feel. Nothing. I am nothing. Nothing.
