Sorry is the only word I have to describe it.
I’m sorry I mess everything up. I’m sorry I don’t know how to feel things the right way, so I just shut it down and stay silent instead. All I want is to fucking talk about it… but I can’t. I don’t know how to talk without feeling, and god forbid I actually allow myself to feel things. So I get absorbed with anxiety and emotion and shut down.
I’m sorry I fucked up last night in therapy. I desperately wanted it to go better. I wanted to say all of the things that my head was absolutely screaming at me to say. But I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t get past the warden that is my brain. My head knew if I talked about any of this, I would break. Shit, even sitting there silently just thinking about it, I nearly broke.
I’m sorry I’m not a better friend. I should be so happy for you. And I am. But I’m also grieving something huge, and that makes it hard for me to be truly happy.
I’m sorry I’m not a better mom, and you’re still struggling so hard to breathe. I’m doing everything I can for you. You’re my favorite person in the world (but don’t tell anyone else). I really don’t want you to die. I’m sorry you got my fucked up gene.
I’m sorry I’m not a better wife, and I currently can not stand you touching me. You don’t deserve it, and you don’t have any context as to why. It’s fucked up, and I’m sorry. I’m also sorry that you’re currently being a better spouse than I am.
I’m shut down, and I know that. I came home from therapy last night and you had pizza rolls and a drink ready to go for me. You had yet to see my face, but you wanted me to be happy when I got home, regardless. Then you saw my face, even though I was hiding it from you. You saw my red and swollen eyes, obviously fighting back tears. And you did what I always want you to do. You paused whatever we were doing, and very directly focused on me, and asked me what was wrong. You asked me if “therapy didn’t go well?” And I told you it was fine. You didn’t believe me, but I wouldn’t talk about it. I can’t. You accepted that, but I could feel you being there for me anyway. I hope you know that I appreciate you, and I see you.
I’m sorry I’m not a better birth mom right now. I’m probably the most sorry for this, out of all of it. The pain of you…of thinking about you, of dealing with you…it is so hard. It hurts so horrifically much. And unfortunately…physical distance convinces me that it’s easy to distance myself from you emotionally. I love you the most (but don’t tell anyone), but loving you hurts more than I have to give. I wish your parents weren’t making this harder. It should never be this hard…it should never hurt this much. I hope it doesn’t hurt for you, too.
I fucked up last night. I went into therapy full of things to talk about, and instead I talked about nothing. Consumed with pain and anxiety.
She got me a few minutes late, which was fine. It didn’t bother me. Then shortly after I went in, she grabbed her laptop and sat down with it so she could schedule me more appointments before she got booked.
Nothing she did was wrong, or hurtful, or bad.
But both of those things allowed me to start getting in my own head….start internalizing and actually feeling all of the things I’ve been trying so hard to avoid.
I shut down, I got anxious…I don’t even know what the fuck I felt. But all I could think about was the news I got the other night. And it fucking broke me. I shouldn’t be upset…but it hurts so fucking much.
I’m sorry I fought breaking down so hard driving home that I almost didn’t make it. I’m sorry that I almost didn’t want to make it home.
I don’t have a right to feel the things I feel. Everything hurts SO fucking much, and I feel wrong about all of it. I can’t handle this much pain and grief and loss.
The more I hurt, the more I shut down, the more I fuck everything up…the more I fucking hurt.
I can’t anymore.
I’m sorry. I really am.
I know I’m a fuck up. And I hate it more than you do.
I’m sorry. I wish I was a better person for all of you.
I don’t deserve the pain I cause on this planet. I take more than I give. I create suffering and pain for everyone around me. I hate myself.
I’ll just keep pushing you all away until there’s no one left to push, no one left to hurt but me.
I just hope you know that I’m sorry for all of it.