I put water in a mug. Microwave on for three minutes. I watched as the water started to boil. I kept watching as it came to a full boil. I took the cup upstairs. I used a syringe type thing to bring the water into my lady parts. I held it there, letting the hot water burn me.
I remember that lonely year in science class. I was the only white in the class. I was to blame for everyone’s problems. One of the guys started taking an “interest” in me. He would pull up a chair close to me, straddling me. He would run his hands up my shorts. Inside my underwear… inside me. He would kiss my ear, my neck, feel my breasts. The other kids would gather around, cheering him on, and blocking him from the teacher’s view. This went on for nearly a year, just about every day. If I wore pants, he wasn’t deterred. The only thing that stopped him was one of the guys in the class. But he rarely came, so most days this happened. He was the leader of a gang in school. I was afraid to stop him. I could still feel him inside me. I could still feel his lips against me.
If I burned myself, I wouldn’t be able to feel him anymore, right? I put half the cup of hot water in me, but nothing hurt enough to make the mental pain go away. I tried to burn myself so I couldn’t feel. But I could still feel.
I don’t know how to work through the sexual stuff. I didn’t say no, so I don’t have a right to complain now right? I didn’t say no, so I wanted it, right?
No one knows how to help me. No one knows how to make my pain stop. I don’t want them to make the pain stop. I don’t want a junior counselor. I have two counselors already, I don’t need another. What I do want is someone to make me feel less lonely. I want a friend. A real life friend. Someone who will hold me while I cry. Someone who will let me feel everything, with no judgement. Someone to remind me over and over that I’m loveable… and loved. Someone who will look at the cut arms and tell me I’m still accepted and loved.
I’m scared and alone. I don’t know any other way out.
The next session with the couples tomorrow we are supposed to talk about my husband working on my parent’s house. What I want to talk about? I want to talk about E’s jealousy of me. I want to be able to talk about stuff with him without him putting me or whomever I’m talking about down. I want to be able to ask for help without him telling me that I make more money and should know that. I want to be able to come to him about whatever and not be afraid of the reaction I’ll get. I want to talk to him and him not retreat into the bedroom because someone is encouraging me to apply for a job. I want to be able to make a mistake and not be afraid of him. I want to be able to find his shit without him accusing me of taking it. The question is… will I have the confidence to talk about all this?
The individual session will be hard. Really hard. I’m going to try to talk about something I haven’t been able to talk about ever. I’ve only told a few people in my life. I’m afraid of saying everything out loud. I’m afraid of facing and dealing with the truth about what happened. I’m scared quite a bit. But in some ways want desperately to work through this.
I made it through my husband’s birthday, the day I had planned on killing myself. As everyone (or no one) breathes a sigh of relief, I don’t know what to do.
I’m literally tired of/from crying, but don’t have the strength to get better. No one will care if I die. No one. I’m all alone. I just want someone to hold me while I cry. I just want to matter to someone. In a twisted way I just want someone to miss me when I’m gone.
I’m distancing myself from the one close real life friend I can talk to. I don’t want to hurt the friend if I go through with it. I don’t want to be a burden anymore.
I’m supposed to do evidence for/against being unloveable for counseling. I have a ton of evidence for being unloveable but can’t think of a reason to put down for being loveable. I can’t even do a counseling assignment right.
I wish I would have the courage to go through with killing myself. I wish someone would be with me when I do it so I wasn’t so alone. I know that would be so cruel to the other person, so I will have to be alone.
This is the last New Years. And with that brings only nine more days I have to get through.
I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of reaching out to others just to be hurt terribly. I’m tired of trusting. I don’t want friends anymore. I guess it doesn’t even matter. No one wants to be friends with me. I’m completely alone. It’s too late anyway. I only have nine more days left.
My husband’s counselor pretty much said that he didn’t need counseling. He will see him infrequently… About once a month. Pretty much seems like everything is my fault with this. I’m a horrible person.
I matter to no one. No one will care if I die. No one loves me. It makes stopping the pain easier.
I feel like I’m just going through the motions now. Like I’m just doing what I have to do to get by, to make it to the next day, knowing I’m almost to the finish line.