What do you do…?

What do you do when no matter how hard you try, no matter how much work it seems like you put in…at the end of the day…it just doesn’t seem worth it?

Like…I’m fucking struggling. I don’t want this! I don’t want the pain and I honestly don’t feel like I deserve it. Or maybe I do. Yeah…I probably do deserve it.

But even still. Fine, I deserve it. I’ve been suffering for years. I don’t remember a period of time in my life where I haven’t been actively struggling. But that doesn’t mean I want this or I chose it.

An hour or 2 ago I told my husband (mostly sarcastically, partially not…or maybe it was more honest than I’d admit…) that I was done with therapy. That I don’t need it, or she doesn’t like me (or something along those lines) so I’m just done. “Is that cool?”

He hesitated for half a second before he shook his head “no”…it’s not okay.

I laughed. “Right. That’s absolutely the right answer. If I ever say that and I’m actually serious…? You should be very…VERY concerned. That should not be okay with you.”

I don’t want to go deep right now. I don’t want to think about explaining things in a way that makes sense, or having to think about or choose my words. I’m just fucking hurting.

I was hurting last night and I tried. I really did. I’ve held on tonight but I am very..VERY quickly losing strength. It’s 12:09am and he wants to go to bed. Honestly, so do I. But I can’t. There is no world where a head this fucked up can ever accept sleep.

The nightmares are too much lately. The dark thoughts. The thoughts (and efforts) to giving up…they’re so fucking overpowering and loud.

“My kids are going to die. You don’t deserve that. No one should have to watch that. Be selfish. Leave before they do. They don’t need you anyway. You’d be doing them a favor by leaving in their short, fucked up lives.”

“The person that taught you what it is that love and trust meant in this world, when you were a child in SUCH desperate need of just that? The person that fed the emotionally starving and suffering child…the only person that made me ever feel safe in a world full of chaos and abuse….”

Yeah. He’s the one fucking raping me or assaulting me or whatever the FUCK word you god damn want to assign to it. He’s telling me my worth. He’s showing me my value. He isn’t the first. He’s not the first to show me that love comes only with the guarantee of a service. “You’re fucking worth nothing unless someone is getting exactly what they need from you. And it doesn’t fucking matter how I feel about it.”

Do you think you’re the first? Do you really think you’re the fucking first person to do this to me?!?! You’re fucking NOT! I’ve been through this shit. Repeatedly. It fucked me up beyond the depths of my comprehension the first time. I just didn’t realize it could get worse.

I didn’t realize it would happen again. Not repeatedly. Not this badly.

I’m fine. Everything is fine.

But really…if someone has the answers…please tell me what to do.

I did what I knew how to do.

I reached out, I wrote…I fucking stayed alive and made mostly good choices. But none of that seemed to work. No one responded, no one was there. That’s not on them, I’m in absolutely no way blaming anyone. Please don’t read that as if I am. No one is responsible for me or how I feel or respond to this world except for me.

And still… it didn’t work for me.

It’s just… I did all I logically know how to do. I did everything. And I’ll still do it. I don’t and won’t give up. But…I’m losing hope. And I’m no one’s burden to bare….but I just feel like on my worst days, in my worst moments…

I wish I didn’t have to suffer alone.

It’s fine.

I’m fine.

No worries.

“I’m fine, I always am.”

6 thoughts on “What do you do…?”

  1. Thing is I get you and these thoughts if you can logic them as you see in my blog are really ok. It’s part of that angry survivor side of you and the really hurt victim side of you wanting desperately to join up. I used to think thinking about taking my life was a terrible thing and I know you’ve got kids so it feels unfair that you have to keep going but there’s a reason you’ve been plonked here right here right now. Being raped, repeatedly raped even is an act by a coward. We don’t own it we just have endured it in much the same way as someone crashing into us in a car. We are not to blame. However just like in a car crash if you had an injury you wouldn’t expect to be running a marathon tommorrow if it happened today would you?
    This hubby in your life. Are you allowing him to be your rescuer? You sre your rescuer. No one else is. Not the therapist, not Uncle Tom cobbly only you. It’s ok to have dark sleepless nights at your stage of your journey so instead of fighting it if you’re able to just be ok with it. It happens. After rape the more you fight it the more you fight yourself the more it hurts. Once you realise this and just make peace with that you have been broken but you’re still functioning and in ten years your heart will still beat then this is when you’ll start to look outward. For now – just be kind to you. Then like me you’ll start to have the odd night where you sleep through and that beautiful brain of yours will say hey I’m starting to turn the corner. It’s ok to feel suicidal thoughts when you’ve been raped. You know you’re not going to end your life. I hear you. I see you. You are not alone.

    1. I guess thats a good way to look at it…instead of fighting it just to accept it as what is right now. I’m definitely fighting myself to be “okay” right now and that’s probably not helping anything.
      I think I do want someone to rescue me, I don’t feel strong enough to rescue myself at this point. I’m getting there.

      1. Just recognising how you are feeling is you starting to take a little control back. Just keep swimming! You’re doing great. It does get easier trust me but there’s no gain without pain sadly – our beautiful brains need time to begin to heal. Do something nice just for you today 😊 tomorrow’s another day..

  2. Well the reality is that none of us deserve to struggle or suffer however my perspective that helps me put this whole thing into perspective is a question – Would I prefer a life of colours like a rainbow or purely black and white? The black and white whilst is an attractive option misses out colour as they are technically not colours. Before this experience I’d say I was not in touch with my colours but being able to rummage around in the blackness has made me realise what I now prefer. I don’t like the black, but I purposefully look now for the colours. That’s what this being raped experience has taught me. It’s like quite a cool gift. I’ve come to realise that to scrape around inside ones own blackness brings us a unique ability to look at life in a colourful way and I like this gift I’ve been given. Before if I’m honest I took a lot for granted – even rubbished and criticised a lot of my life and looked for things that were wrong. Now I cherish the things that are right and also forgive my imperfections. This has helped me be real and able to connect with others. That’s not such a bad thing now is it?

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