My counselor asked me how my mood was at my last appointment. I don’t know how I feel. I don’t where to start. I’m exhausted. I’m deeply depressed but I don’t have the energy to figure out how I feel, much less actually write it down for her. I told her crappy but I wanted to tell her more. No mo
My counselor thinks that since I’m around negative people at work and home all the time that I should take time for me and hang out with friends that build me up. Even if I did, my brain is wired to not remember anything positive.
I need the release that tears would bring. I need to cry. I’m too numb and tired for the tears. No one wants to hear me cry anyway.
I’ve cleaned out most of my office. I’ve decided I’m not coming back. During maternity leave, I’ll look for a new job. If I can’t find another job, then I’ll go through with it. I know people won’t miss me. I’m at peace with the decision. More at peace than I have ever been with it. Everyone will be used to me being MIA from being out on maternity leave. I’ll just become a postpartum statistic. Everyone will think it is postpartum depression. Not many will realize I’ve been dealing with this for decades. That I’ve just given up. That life won’t get better. That one of the things that brought me joy, no longer does. That I feel that I have no purpose in life. That the few things that brought me joy at work have been taken away. I’m ready to be done. I’m tired of being yelled at at home. I’m tired of putting on a happy face for everyone when I really feel like crying. The kids will be better off without me. Erik will be better off without me. Everyone will be better off without me. Erik can move wherever he wants and use my insurance money to pay off the van and house. Everyone would be better off without me.
I’m worn and tired and can’t hang on any longer. I’ve got to think of others. How better off they would be without me.
I’ve paused counseling. I might just not go back. That way the counselor won’t be in any trouble. And honestly I don’t want to hurt her. Sometimes I wonder if she cares about me more than a lot of friends and family do. I’m not sure why anyone would care about me. Seems like a waste to me.
I’m supposed to be happy. I’m having a baby. Everyone says I look so good. I just want to die.
I told him that I loved him. He just looked at me and said “oh”. Nothing else, then walked off. It’s been before W was born since he said it to me. The rejection makes me feel alone and isolated. There wasn’t a good explanation as to why he won’t. I used to say it to him all the time, but I stopped. The fact he doesn’t say it back to me hurts. A lot. It reminds me what I already know. He doesn’t love me. I take care of a lot for him. I feel alone in this relationship. I feel like if I disappeared no one would care. He won’t say he loves me. He won’t say he likes me. He locked up my engagement ring. What more evidence do I need?
I have a counseling appointment coming up. I want to tell her how I feel. I want to tell her how scared and at peace I am with the future. Two conflicting feelings rolled into one. Because, apparently, I’m weird. I am scared to tell her my feelings. I’m afraid she will stop me. At the same time, I’m afraid she will be dismissive. And there’s a part of me that thinks she already knows. She just wants me to open up. I want to tell her I plan on going through with it. I want to tell her I’m sorry for any pain that will cause her. I don’t want to be alone in this.
My birthday is coming up. 40th. After the baby is born. I honestly at this point don’t know why I go on. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of putting on a happy face for everyone and pretending that I’m ok. I’m tired of the pain. This won’t get better. I just want this to end. I want the fight to end. I won’t win. I haven’t so far, so why should I believe things will get better? I’ve stayed alive these last months because killing myself would result in my killing an unborn baby. But soon, the baby will be born. What will keep me alive then? Why will I continue on? I honestly don’t want to go on. I want this to be the end. I’ve struggled immensely this whole pregnancy. I was struggling before. I want to die. I want to self harm. I want to die a slow painful death. I figure I deserve it. If I were a better person, I’d be happier. But I’m not. I’m a horrible person. Even my own husband doesn’t love me. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone anymore. I can kill myself. They will be able to pay off the car and the house. They will be better off without me.
I honestly just want someone to hold me. Someone who will tell me that they will be here for me. Someone who isn’t going to lie and tell me things will get better. It’s been nearly three decades. Things won’t get better. I just need to learn how to survive and not focus on happiness. Happiness is unobtainable. Hell, at this point, life seems unobtainable.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I feel. I know that I’m struggling. I know that I still want to die. I know that I can’t go through with it yet. I care too much for the unborn baby. So I have to go on.
I’m scared to be alone during maternity leave. I’m scared that I’ll go through with it. But I also don’t want to be suffocated by having people around.
I was driving back from Colorado yesterday. W was in the backseat while I was driving in the front. He wanted me in the backseat. He kept telling me that he needed me. No one seems to need me. So I nearly cried when I heard him. E gets mad at how attached he is to me.
It’s hard. Does W know why he “needs” me. If I die, will he miss me? Will I really hurt him? Won’t he be better off without me? Won’t everyone be better off without me?
Erik wants me to quit counseling to “save money”. Maybe I should. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to be held accountable for the feelings or what I’ll do. There’s a part of me that wants to walk the rest of this path on my own and not tell anyone.
There’s also a part of me that wants to tell my counselor how bad I’m doing and hope she has something that will change my mind. I want to talk through the feelings with someone, but honestly, I don’t know what the feelings are. I don’t know how to vocalize the feelings. This counselor understands me fairly well. I know if I bring up the subject she will realize how much pain I’m in. In a way, that makes it harder. Knowing that she knows without me having to say it, makes me scared to talk about it.
I honestly just want to be held by someone. To be told that I’m loved. To be told that I matter. To be allowed to cry with no questions asked.
I’ve spent the majority of the night crying. I want to die right now, but I have a life inside me. As soon as that life is out, I can go through with it. For now, I would be committing an abortion and suicide. I can’t live with taking an innocent life with my own. So I have to wait. I’ve been fighting this for 28 years. I’m tired. I’m done. I’m ready. I have nothing to live for. People would be better off without me.
They could take my life insurance money and pay off the house and buy a new car. They could have so much without me. I owe it to the kids to go through with this. Their life would be so much better without me. People disagree but they don’t see the real me. They don’t know how much of a monster I am. How horrible of a person I am inside.
The world would be better off without me. That was evident today.
I won’t forget how alone and how horrible I feel right now. I won’t forget how much I want to die. I won’t forget. This time I’ll have courage. I hurt too much not to.
I wish someone could hold me right now while I cry. I wish someone would love me. I wish I wasn’t alone. Maybe any one of those would make a difference. But they haven’t and won’t.
This feeling won’t go away. And explaining this to someone else would make no sense to them.
I’m scared. I’m alone.
How do you put into words intensity? How do you tell someone not only the type of feeling you are having, but the absolute intensity of the feelings? How do you convey the terror of the feelings when you can’t even describe the feelings themselves?
I want to die, but I can’t kill myself. I’m trapped. I’m trapped by a pregnancy. I can’t kill an unborn baby because my life sucks. I’m being held hostage by the thoughts. I can’t erase them. I can’t control them. They are a part of me that I have to live with. It’s like I need to learn how to coexist with something that I can’t live with.
I don’t know who to turn to. The few people I trust I don’t want to hurt with the feelings. I don’t want them to feel bad because I feel bad. But I long to be able to talk to someone through tears and to have the thoughts lightened. Even if they don’t go away completely, just not to have to carry the burden by myself. But the few people that I can trust are those that are most hurt by my feeling sad. I’m struggling, but I don’t want to bring someone down with me. I don’t want someone to feel bad for me. I don’t want someone to make allowances because I can’t handle things. But at the same time, I’m hurting. I put on a smile so people won’t ask. I put on a smile so everyone thinks everything is ok, even though it isn’t. I try to bury everything, but I can’t. It’s not working anymore.
Why is it so hard to have a friend? Maybe I don’t deserve to have a friend. Maybe I’m just so broken, that the fewer lives I touch, the better off everyone will be. Maybe I really am that horrible and unloveable of a person. Maybe I deserve to be alone. Maybe I deserve exactly what I have.
I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of living. I’m tired.
I’m going to try to work through this in counseling. But nothing has helped yet. Why do I think something will help now? But honestly, it has to work. I’m safe now. I won’t kill myself because I don’t want to harm the baby. For a good year after the baby is born, I’ll be ok. I won’t be able to make much progress moving forward then because I won’t be able to connect with the feelings. After that, I’m afraid of what I’ll do. I’ll be back where I was right before I got pregnant. I’m afraid of being there again.
I literally need someone who will work through pros and cons of killing myself. I need to really believe what conclusions we come to, otherwise it’s just me trusting what someone else says. I need to possibly function with everything in the pro column with no sugar coating if that is how I feel. I need to focus on working towards removing things from the pro column and adding things to the con column. But who will be patient with me? Who will allow me to fuel the fire so that we can put it out later? Who will allow things to get worse in order to hopefully get better?
I just want to be loved. I just want someone to hold me while I cry. As selfish as this sounds, I just want to be special to someone. I know that sounds pathetic. But that is where I am.
Another night crying. E and I got in a big argument on Sunday. I told him I would be happy to talk when he was calm. He threw that back in my face, said that was the professionals talking. That he should have never went to the counselor I chose.
That night he was talking to someone for hours. The whole conversation revolved around how horrible of a wife I am. He pretty much said that since I am still going to counseling and he doesn’t have to that the problems lie with me.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything is all my fault. Maybe I will never succeed. Maybe no one will ever want to be my friend. Maybe I should just accept that I’m unloveable and move on.
I feel trapped. At this point I have to stay alive. Killing myself would involve killing another human being. I can’t do that.
I don’t know who I can talk to. I’m alone. I’m scared. I just want someone to hold me and tell me things will get better. They won’t. I know that. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to turn to.
“God, I’m alone and tired. Please take me home.” I prayed through tears tonight. Over and over. Two hours worth of tears and they are still falling. I’m falling fast, with no one to catch me. But it’s ok. I want to ride this ride to the end. I want to be done.
This feeling is normal. Not being able to breathe from the stuffiness of crying. Loneliness. Knowing that if I died in my sleep tonight, no one would care. This is me. The sunshiny person isn’t me. It’s just my mask so no one will see the absolute chaotic inside.
Dinner lays untouched on the counter. I made it this time at least but couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I shouldn’t be skipping meals, but I just can’t eat.
I’m not strong. Who was I kidding? Sunshine is no longer here. It’s just me. And I’m all alone in the sadness. I desperately just want someone to hold me while I cry. Someone to hug me close and tell me it will be ok. But you know what? It won’t be ok. It would all just be a lie. A postponement of the inevitable. I’m not going to get better. I’m a failure. I’m a horrible person and nothing but a failure. I can’t even be happy right.
I can’t kill myself now. I feel trapped. Nothing will get better and I have no way out. I’m all alone to face this.
People don’t understand. No one ever will. I can’t explain the feelings. I can’t explain the complete loneliness. I can’t explain the despair. I can’t explain the extent of hopelessness. I can’t explain the mental anguish.
I just want to be loved. Why is that so hard? I think I know why. I’m a horrible person.
I remember my orthodontist calling me sunshine because I was always smiling. He said he could tell me the sky was falling and I would still face the problem with a smile on my face. It’s time to get back to that. Smiles represent everything is ok, even when they aren’t.
I’m compartmentalizing. This thing here. This feeling there. This trauma there. Filing feelings apart from the trauma they represent. I was hoping that I would be able to reconnect trauma with feelings but I suppose I won’t be able to. This way is better.
Walls are up. No one will know that I’m hurting. Everyone will see the smile. No one will know the truth. No one.
The counselor wants me to go to group therapy. She says there will be a time when she might make it required for me to go to stay in individual therapy. I’m going to tell her I’d rather know that up front then get invested in the relationship and have to leave prematurely. All it will end up doing is hurting me more to completely trust and then have to walk away. I would rather walk away now then have to work through being abandoned by my counselor on top of everything. Maybe I was just kidding myself with counseling. Maybe i was just kidding myself that things will get better. I know better. I know they don’t. I don’t know why I allowed myself to feel different. I don’t know why I allowed myself to have hope.
I think it is finally hitting me how alone I am. In some ways it’s better this way. In some ways, I don’t have to convince people I’m ok. I’m scared of going through this alone though. I just have to keep telling myself it’s better this way. I just wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I had someone to talk to that would stick by me no matter what. That wouldn’t put conditions or time frames on talking. Someone that could be behind the wall with me. But I don’t. I’ll have to be brave by myself. This is why I traditionally don’t get close. I just end up hurting.
So it’s time to be Sunshine again. It’s time to be happy no matter what. It’s time to be alone again.
I emailed the counselor and told her I wanted to talk about the suicidal and self harm issues. That I wanted to discuss what happened in freshman science class. That Erik wasn’t going back to counseling and that I needed coping skills to get through the yelling.
She asked me if I knew why self injury was such a big deal. Not a clue… you can mess up and kill yourself. Apparently there is a much higher increase in suicide for the three months after self injury.
I wanted to talk to her about it. I couldn’t. She asked me how frequently I did it. Not frequently. Honestly, at that time, I’m not sure I could even come up with a number.
E had put in his intake paperwork that I had hit and pushed him and that I threatened to call the cops on him. I haven’t.
He said I had inappropriate emotional relationships with a professor in college and a coworker. I don’t think he knows what an emotional relationship is. Or hell maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just the one fucked up.
She said she wasn’t convinced I didn’t have borderline personality disorder. She went down the list of symptoms. I claimed I didn’t meet them. But honestly, I can make a case I suffer from all the personality disorders.
She told me I needed to talk. That she liked me but I needed to open up. Why would she like me? She asked me if I was mad at her. I wasn’t. I knew I needed to talk. But how do I? She asked me where I self harmed. I held back tears and shook my head. I couldn’t. She told me she already knew. But I still couldn’t. I needed to but couldn’t. I was ashamed. Who does that? I told her I’d write her. I chickened out. I wrote her. I put everything in words.
I’m afraid and alone.