Some years ago I wrote a poem by the same title. The tone of this post, I think, will be rather different. It is me pouring out what I cannot say otherwise; what I cannot get others to understand; what no one will hear.
You, dear ones, are why I am still here. It is you who love and care for me that are the reason for my continued existence. For some time now I have been unable to come up with anything that makes me want to stay. Not even the love I have for you. But knowing the hurt that my death would cause (especially suicide)... that is why I am still here.
I wish I was not.
I'm sorry, loved ones, but that is the honest truth. I pray regularly that God would please erase me from this world; body, soul, and memory. I pray He would make it as if I had never existed. That way no one would be hurt... and I would be free. I have told Him on more than one occasion that, if given the choice, I think I would have opted not to be created in the first place. Not if I knew what was coming. Not if I had known I would spend so much of my time in misery, wishing for death, or just an end, but being unable to help myself along... Because of you.
It is For You that I stay. But I am sorry, treasured ones, it is not something I want to do. I wish most strongly to quiet this earth, this life, once and for all. I have no future. I have no hope.
But I love you all and do not want to hurt you in that way.
And so I stay.
For you.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
Shadows - SO very true
"I know about shadows. You just want to be careful they don't grow teeth. Because they can. Then, sometimes when you reach for the light-switch to make them go away, you discover the power's out."
Duma Key by Stephen King (C)2008 by Stephen King
Duma Key by Stephen King (C)2008 by Stephen King
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Thoughts Prompted by Frustration ( and a therapist who doesn't know what to do with me)
I'm not even going to try and write 'well'. Stream of consciousness is all you get. Because to be totally honest I'm not sure my thoughts are 'together' enough to 'write well'. For instance, I am not even sure where to start...
Had one of my 'bi-monthly' therapy sessions yesterday. It sucked. Big time. He kept repeating himself for one thing. The same mantra over and over. 'I want to help but you're not giving me anything to work with. You won't come up with any goals.' Blah-blah-blah. Of course the fact that this guy just really doesn't know what to do with a borderline has nothing to do with it. It's all my fault. You want to know how I know that? Yesterday he asked me if I had been doing any cutting. I've been seeing him since sometime mid-May. I can count on one hand how many times he's asked me about cutting behavior. He knows I'm a cutter. Hell, he even saw the scars on my arms one of the times I overdosed and went to the ER. And some weeks ago I went to the ER for stitches. He knew this. He was there (damn hospital called mental health). Did he ask at the next session if I had done any more cutting? Nope. Nothing. Oh no that's not completely true. He did ask how the one was healing. He remained ignorant of the fact that I had another on my left bicep that should have been stitched. I taped it shut instead. I'm pretty good at that actually. So that's how I know.
Last session I had eluded to what is more than likely a diagnosable eating disorder. I didn't tell him much. As I told him yesterday, I'm not done. I want to lose at least another 30 pounds. Anyway yesterday he mentions that if he knew what it was I had been hedging around that might give us something to work on (remember it's all my fault that we're not getting anywhere). I told him that I'd let him know if he guessed correctly but that I did not want to tell him outright. As I've thought about it since I've come up with a couple more reasons for this than the 'I'm not done yet' reason I gave him. To start, as I've told him, I do not like to hear everything. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense but it's the truth. I realized this when another therapist (one I saw while I was at University) was looking at some of my drawings and started to read the description of one (on the back) out loud. No idea. Well, OK, I've got the beginning of a guess but I'm not going to get into it now. The other is similar to one of the reasons I gave him yesterday (I told him I know this stuff isn't kosher but that doesn't help). I'm ashamed. I know better than this, you know? We learned about this stuff in health class in Junior High, in High School, at University. We learned it in several of my psych classes. I would like to say that I just don't care but the shame I feel about it is probably a sign that that isn't true. Also I don't want to talk about it. Again I think this has something to do with the fact that I know better. Having to talk about all that crap, look at it, analyze it, would make me feel so stupid. I KNOW BETTER!!! It gets better still as I've noticed that induced vomiting has become somewhat like the cutting. I have actually found myself thinking 'I want to throw up' very much like I would think 'I want to cut'. I'm not sure but I don't think that's a good sign.
He wouldn't guess. I was the one who pointed out that my behavior at that moment was very borderline (I was asking him why, if he knew I was borderline, he expected anything different than what he was getting. It was during this exchange that I actually had it confirmed by someone that I am in fact borderline. I have the idea that it's not something they like to tell you. To be honest the straightforward affirmation sort of sucked.). He then pointed out specifics. And so he wouldn't give in. He wouldn't guess. If he had guessed correctly I would have felt a little better about him; I would have thought that me might have some small idea of what to do with me. But that's borderline. And so he wouldn't guess.
I found myself experiencing two different emotions regarding his refusal to guess at what it was I was not telling him. The first actually surprised me. I was somewhat relieved, almost glad, that he would not give in to such behavior; that he would not guess. No idea where that came from but it is what it is. The second was more what I expected. I was angry. I had a couple reasons why I did not want to tell him outright (and as I have said I have since come up with a few more). He was getting on me for not having any goals or anything like that, telling me that if I would tell him what it was then there might be something to work on. Also saying things like 'Maybe you're not getting any benefit from therapy' 'Not everyone does well in therapy', etc which honestly had me close to tears a couple times (fine, kick me out, give up on me you jerk). Here I am giving him an opportunity to learn what it is I am withholding (I was pointing him in the right direction; I honestly think he would have guessed if he had wanted to. Hell he might even know and just not be telling me... if he didn't figure it out in the end he's got to be extremely dense) and he won't guess! And yet he keeps at me with this shit.
I dissociated a bit during the session. Just a quick mention because, if anyone reads this and happens to have any knowledge of dissociation maybe you could help me out. Does it sometimes come with any sort of visual distortion? I can't quite describe it, colors and light around the outline of things became at the same time brighter and blurrier. This isn't the first time I've experienced that during a minor dissociative laps. *shrug* Je ne sais pas (I don't know).
Had one of my 'bi-monthly' therapy sessions yesterday. It sucked. Big time. He kept repeating himself for one thing. The same mantra over and over. 'I want to help but you're not giving me anything to work with. You won't come up with any goals.' Blah-blah-blah. Of course the fact that this guy just really doesn't know what to do with a borderline has nothing to do with it. It's all my fault. You want to know how I know that? Yesterday he asked me if I had been doing any cutting. I've been seeing him since sometime mid-May. I can count on one hand how many times he's asked me about cutting behavior. He knows I'm a cutter. Hell, he even saw the scars on my arms one of the times I overdosed and went to the ER. And some weeks ago I went to the ER for stitches. He knew this. He was there (damn hospital called mental health). Did he ask at the next session if I had done any more cutting? Nope. Nothing. Oh no that's not completely true. He did ask how the one was healing. He remained ignorant of the fact that I had another on my left bicep that should have been stitched. I taped it shut instead. I'm pretty good at that actually. So that's how I know.
Last session I had eluded to what is more than likely a diagnosable eating disorder. I didn't tell him much. As I told him yesterday, I'm not done. I want to lose at least another 30 pounds. Anyway yesterday he mentions that if he knew what it was I had been hedging around that might give us something to work on (remember it's all my fault that we're not getting anywhere). I told him that I'd let him know if he guessed correctly but that I did not want to tell him outright. As I've thought about it since I've come up with a couple more reasons for this than the 'I'm not done yet' reason I gave him. To start, as I've told him, I do not like to hear everything. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense but it's the truth. I realized this when another therapist (one I saw while I was at University) was looking at some of my drawings and started to read the description of one (on the back) out loud. No idea. Well, OK, I've got the beginning of a guess but I'm not going to get into it now. The other is similar to one of the reasons I gave him yesterday (I told him I know this stuff isn't kosher but that doesn't help). I'm ashamed. I know better than this, you know? We learned about this stuff in health class in Junior High, in High School, at University. We learned it in several of my psych classes. I would like to say that I just don't care but the shame I feel about it is probably a sign that that isn't true. Also I don't want to talk about it. Again I think this has something to do with the fact that I know better. Having to talk about all that crap, look at it, analyze it, would make me feel so stupid. I KNOW BETTER!!! It gets better still as I've noticed that induced vomiting has become somewhat like the cutting. I have actually found myself thinking 'I want to throw up' very much like I would think 'I want to cut'. I'm not sure but I don't think that's a good sign.
He wouldn't guess. I was the one who pointed out that my behavior at that moment was very borderline (I was asking him why, if he knew I was borderline, he expected anything different than what he was getting. It was during this exchange that I actually had it confirmed by someone that I am in fact borderline. I have the idea that it's not something they like to tell you. To be honest the straightforward affirmation sort of sucked.). He then pointed out specifics. And so he wouldn't give in. He wouldn't guess. If he had guessed correctly I would have felt a little better about him; I would have thought that me might have some small idea of what to do with me. But that's borderline. And so he wouldn't guess.
I found myself experiencing two different emotions regarding his refusal to guess at what it was I was not telling him. The first actually surprised me. I was somewhat relieved, almost glad, that he would not give in to such behavior; that he would not guess. No idea where that came from but it is what it is. The second was more what I expected. I was angry. I had a couple reasons why I did not want to tell him outright (and as I have said I have since come up with a few more). He was getting on me for not having any goals or anything like that, telling me that if I would tell him what it was then there might be something to work on. Also saying things like 'Maybe you're not getting any benefit from therapy' 'Not everyone does well in therapy', etc which honestly had me close to tears a couple times (fine, kick me out, give up on me you jerk). Here I am giving him an opportunity to learn what it is I am withholding (I was pointing him in the right direction; I honestly think he would have guessed if he had wanted to. Hell he might even know and just not be telling me... if he didn't figure it out in the end he's got to be extremely dense) and he won't guess! And yet he keeps at me with this shit.
I dissociated a bit during the session. Just a quick mention because, if anyone reads this and happens to have any knowledge of dissociation maybe you could help me out. Does it sometimes come with any sort of visual distortion? I can't quite describe it, colors and light around the outline of things became at the same time brighter and blurrier. This isn't the first time I've experienced that during a minor dissociative laps. *shrug* Je ne sais pas (I don't know).
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
An Analogy
As I lay in bed thinking (a sometimes dangerous past time for us all, a regularly dangerous past time for yours truly) it occurred to me that I will never marry; I will never have children. Fair enough. Many people live full and happy lives without the benefit of a spouse and/or children (rug rats, my dad used to say... he probably would have been fine had he not had children). The reasoning behind my... understanding, shall we say, is less simple. Macabre, really. I simply do not believe I will live that long. BPD, depression and a possible (more than likely, really) eating disorder... they take their toll and they give nothing back.
It's not like I haven't tried. The shortest amount of time I've delt with any of these is 6, 7 years (the BPD which fully kicked in around the 21, 22); the longest (the depression) 13, 14 years. That being the case I think I've done pretty well. Trying is so very tiring, though. Especially when you come to the point where you are trying for everyone else more than for yourself. I've been trying for everyone else for what seems like a lifetime... and then some. And I'm exhausted. Like a man drowning in the ocean. Wave after wave pushes him under and each time he claws his way back to the surface he looses a little more. A little more energy. A little more hope. Until finally he no longer has enough of either to keep trying... and he lets go.
It's not like I haven't tried. The shortest amount of time I've delt with any of these is 6, 7 years (the BPD which fully kicked in around the 21, 22); the longest (the depression) 13, 14 years. That being the case I think I've done pretty well. Trying is so very tiring, though. Especially when you come to the point where you are trying for everyone else more than for yourself. I've been trying for everyone else for what seems like a lifetime... and then some. And I'm exhausted. Like a man drowning in the ocean. Wave after wave pushes him under and each time he claws his way back to the surface he looses a little more. A little more energy. A little more hope. Until finally he no longer has enough of either to keep trying... and he lets go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)