Apparently next time I am supposed to expound on 'stuck' (don't you love how I just jump in with out telling you what 'next time' is? You're welcome ;) ). There is just one problem though... I'm no sure there's much more to say about 'stuck'.
When you're emotional you let your guard down. It's a hazard, if you ask me. When you're emotional and your guard is down you say things such as 'Yes but Lot was stuck in a city he didn't want to be in; I am stuck in a life I don't want to be in.' I'm just glad I didn't come off suicidal or I might not have been writing this for another 72 hours or so. I exploded (for me anyway) with the information that I have, on several occasions, asked God to erase me. He won't. I cannot take care of the problem (the problem being my continued existence) myself; I still care about how my killing myself would effect those I care about and who care about me. Since I cannot at this time off myself and God will not take pity on me here in my misery by erasing me from existence, from time and memory, I am stuck. Simple as that.
Actually the first time this really became a problem I phrased it 'done but stuck'. Simple enough: I was done with life but for one reason or another was stuck and, as my therapist at the time put it, either 'unable or unwilling' to kill myself. And here I find myself again (no surprise there; I seem to be headed down the same path I was on my last year of school). I'm done. I'm so freaking tired of all this. I do not want to live the next 40, 50 (heck with my grandparents and great grandma counted in here I could very well live another 60 years, God forbid *shudders *) feeling this way. Most nights it's bad enough knowing I have to wake up in the morning. I'm just done.
Part of my problem, I think, is Before. Not before the depression (which has been a problem for something like half my life, give or take). Not before the eating disorder (which first made it's presence quietly known during my first two quarters of University -I was 19-). Not even necessarily before the cutting (this little 'habit' which would grow from 'just' cutting and self injury -making a distinction between 'self injury' and 'self harm'- to include burning bruising, and in some ways some of the ED behaviors as well and so go from 'just' self injury to self harm). It is the memory of Before. Before I broke. Before I became this full fledged mess that I am today. Before, when people could still count on me. Before, when I had dreams and believed that I could attain them. Before, when I had hope and a future. Before, when I was beat up, scratched up, and bruised, but still whole.
Before.
Now, now I am stuck. Stuck with the thoughts in my head. Thoughts that torture me. Ideas that haunt me. Stuck with the knowledge that I am not who they think I am, not even close. Stuck living some other persons life. It is not mine. I don't even know who I really am (one more bit of torture, something else to drive me toward the bottom of the Pit) so how could it be my life? I suppose, if this is the case then I do? Who would want to live that way?
Not this girl.
I cried last night. I cried as I apologized to God for giving in (and so bringing much of this on myself). I cried as I apologized for losing hope. I cried as I apologized for allowing myself to slip so far that I do not want even to live any more and for not wanting to get back to the place where I do.
I am tired. I am done. But damn it...
I am stuck.
(had to stop this one, it's starting to ramble... my head isn't quite right for writing at the moment, sorry folks. I know you were holding your breath from some class 'A' writing ';))
