Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Cheat Sheet for life

I am scheduled to see my therapist three times this week.  It was my idea.  I asked for the third day because whatever I am doing isn’t working.  I don’t know what else to do.  I’ve never felt this way, well not in a very long time anyway.  I still can’t get out of bed and when I finally make myself all I can think about is going back to bed.  I still can’t quiet these thoughts in my head.  I can’t make myself want to live.  My therapist called me yesterday to “check in” and let me know that she’s available to talk between sessions if I need to.  I have so many mixed feelings about that.  It makes me feel cared about but it makes me feel so weak and crazy.  It freaks my girlfriend out because she thinks my therapist is worried about me, so my girlfriend feels like she should worry about me more than she already does.  I didn’t call her back.  Every possible message I could think to leave her felt like a lie.  It felt like a lie to say that I’m okay and it felt like a lie to say that I’m not.  Instead I wrote her an email saying “I got your message.  I don’t need to talk between sessions but thanks for the offer.”

Right now I’m working extremely hard to keep this little roller coaster in my head from moving too fast.  To keep it on the track.  It’s so exhausting.  My whole body is exhausted.  I have to shut down the less important parts of me so the energy can be spent on basic necessities.  So the energy can be spent on getting me out of this fucking bed but so far it hasn’t worked.   Right now the roller coaster is going full steam on a downhill slope.  It is out of control and I don’t know how to put the brakes on as I plummet further and further into the abyss.   I’m trying to hold on to the safely rail.  I’m holding on so tight that the palms of my hands are bleeding.  I’m so afraid I’m going to fall.  That I’m going to fall in front of the charging coaster.  That I’m going to crash and be damaged for life.  I’m so afraid of getting off this train.  What happens when it stops?  If falling hurts this much, what’s going to happen when I hit the bottom?  What’s at the bottom?  Will I ever get back up again?    

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about who I am.  Who I’ve been these last twenty something years.  I had so many goals when I was a kid.  I really thought I was going to be someone special when I grew up.  I thought my life would get better when I grew up.  I thought I would get better.  I thought I would finally start wanting to live.  Life would finally be in my control and I wouldn’t hurt anymore.   That never happened, or maybe it’s worse than that.  Maybe I’ve been the problem all along.   I am the reason my heart hurts so much.  I am the reason no one ever wanted me.  I’m a huge fucking failure at life.  I’m not special.  I’m not successful.  I’ve failed or given up on everything I have ever tried in life.  EVERYTHING.

I feel like my life has hit a brick wall going 130 miles an hour.  There are so many questions about what went wrong.  Where I went wrong.  I took a wrong turn somewhere but I can’t retrace my steps to find the right path this time.  I’m so lost.  I’m lost and I’m afraid no one will ever find me.    

I’ve lost a part of myself for good. That part of my heart is closed down. Under construction. No one can touch, no one can see, feeling anything here is not permitted.  I find myself yearning for an intimate connection with someone that understands me.  Someone who has been there too.  I have friends and a wonderful girlfriend, but I have just never allowed myself to be vulnerable with someone else.  I feel like none of the people in my life can ever truly get it.  No one understands how much I hate myself for where I have been.  No one can truly know what it’s like to live like I have.  Still I yearn for that someone that can truly know me.  Someone I could let in all the way, that could break my heart, but would never dare.  Someone whose heart is as broken as mine.  I’m too damaged for that.  My heart is too hard to get to.  It’s behind walls, and fences, and gates and window bars.  There is no one in this world willing to work through all of that.  I’m not worth all of that.

But beyond all of that, I just want to want to live.  I think about death too much.  Those thoughts hurt.  Those thoughts comfort.  Now I’ve written it for everyone to see.  I think about it all the time, at the most random and inappropriate moments.  I just don’t want to hurt anymore.  I know there are people out there who are thinking that I need to just get over myself.  They are tired of reading my depressive crap on this blog.  Trust me; I’m so tired of writing it.  This is not what this blog was supposed to be.  This is not where I thought I was going to be when I started writing it.  Therapy opened up my chest and poked around my heart leaving me exposed and vulnerable and then my foster mom came back into my life only to leave again.  She peeled off a scab from a huge infected wound that never really healed and now I feel like I did way back then plus some.  I’m tired of feeling it.  I’m so tired.  I’m so exhausted, but I can’t ever stop to rest.  I know there are people in this world who have had it so much worse than me.  I know that compared to many I am very lucky.  I know this and maybe it’s selfish of me to feel so broken.  It’s selfish of me to dwell and wallow in my own self-pity.  I can’t help it.  They are stronger than me because I barely survived my childhood.  I’m barely surviving my adulthood and nothing all that bad has happened to me since I became an adult.  Nothing that can compare to my childhood anyway.  I’m so fucking wounded and I’m so tired of nursing my wounds.  I’m so tired.  Doesn’t anyone understand?  I’m so fucking exhausted that simple things like breathing is hard and painful. 

So many memories are trapped in a rusty metal box I call my mind.  I live here or I’m imprisoned here.  It’s really hard to tell the difference at this point.  Through my own life, my own drama, my own angst, I have stayed in that little box.  It’s my home.  It’s my dark place and my safe place.  I live here. I hide here.  It’s scary and it’s comfortable.  It’s killing me but I don’t know how to climb out and let go.  How do I stop hurting?  I feel like life is one huge exam and I’m getting all the answers wrong.  I’m failing.  Right now I could really use a cheat sheet or at least a tutor.  Will anyone please share their answers with me?