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.
“I’m fine, I always am.”