I found a counselor last night I am going to attempt to get in to see both for couples counseling and for individual therapy.
She’s with a group that focuses on counseling those who are hard to counsel. My husband and I as a couple qualify for that. Even more so, I do though. They also specialize in DBT. DBT was what the counselor I opened up to previously suggested for me. It’s used for those who have chronic issues with suicide, someone like me.
I’ve opened up almost completely to one counselor. Completely to none. Partially to five counselors and three psychiatrists. Or something like that; it’s hard to remember anymore. If I had more time with that counselor it would have been completely. I trusted her. I didn’t trust myself. I knew I was teetering on the edge at that point. More so even than I do now. I lived by myself. I was extremely suicidal. The only thing that kept me alive was the fact that I cried myself to sleep before I was able to do anything. Living alone away from my parents meant that they likely wouldn’t be the one to find the body. I regret not going through with it then.
I did a lot of crying back then. I still cry a lot now, the tears are just on the inside. I can’t cry now without questions. And I don’t want to answer questions. Hell, I don’t have the answers to the questions. It’s not even that I don’t want to answer them, I actually can’t. Even back then, the crying was when I was by myself. Now, I’m never by myself. I never cried in counseling, although I wanted to so much.
Want to know what’s sad? More than anything, I just want someone to hold me when I cry. Simple, right? I just want to be held. The emotions are so intense. Even if i could get someone to hold me, I don’t know if I could live in the moment. As in, the emotional overload from someone holding me while I cry is too much. So as much as I want it, I can’t go through with it. I would have to separate the feelings that I desperately need to feel from how I feel for a simple hug.
My birthday is less than four months away now. It’s the day I keep planning to go through with it. Every year it is harder to get through. Every year I make the promise that I won’t see the next one. Every year I fail.
I want to tell someone all this so badly. I want to actually have the courage to TELL them, not have to chicken out and write everything out or not tell them at all. Completely. I want to talk and tell someone my past. Tell them what I’m planning on for future (or lack thereof). I want to have that candid conversation and tell them about how absolutely terrified I am about any possibility. I want to tell them that I really want to go through with it. I want to tell them how terrified I am. I want to tell them how incredibly intense the feelings are.
Old habits are resurfacing to cope. Or at least I have to fight them. I want to cut. I know Erik will be pissed if he sees that I’m doing that. I just can’t let people see, which isn’t hard given where I cut.
I’m scared to open up to someone. Scared to move forward. Scared to stay in the present. Just scared.
Somethings got to give though. I either have to work up the courage to move forward, or work up the courage to go through with it. The limbo isn’t working.