Hurt.

How could you do that? You did the very thing that you KNEW I was the most afraid of.

Giving up on me.

You gave up on me.

I gave you something to read, hoping it would help you understand how I was feeling, where I was coming from.
How do you interpret that from what you read?

I literally came to you, a broken fucking person who currently wants nothing more than to die, and reached out. Offering some insight into me, what I need, and wanting nothing more than to put the work in, to open myself up to be vulnerable, and to try to feel better.

But, instead, you took it as “this isn’t working”. You took my biggest fear and you used it against me. Not in an evil and malicious way, I’m sure, but still. That doesn’t change the level of hurt and betrayal that I feel.

I’ve been feeling more broken than usual lately. Attribute it to the time of year, me being pregnant, me being sober for the first time in years…attribute it to whatever the fuck you want. This time of year is no different than last year. I’m a fucked up mess who needs her fucking people on her damn side.
Last year, it was my husband. He didn’t know how to deal with it, or me, or life, and he didn’t handle it well. We got past it, but it scarred me. And it left me feeling wary about trusting him with it this year.

So I didn’t. I took it to therapy instead. And honestly? It worked out well. Tuesday went great. We actually had a great session talking about hard shit.

I had high hopes going into therapy today, thinking it would be the same, that it would go well. I’ll never know why, but I was wrong. I never fucking know why it doesn’t go well when it doesn’t go well.

See, I’m this fucked up excuse for a human being who desperately needs people, but is SO fucking deeply fearful of trusting, or being vulnerable, that I hang out in this weird zone of “go away, I don’t fucking need you” and “please don’t leave me, I literally can’t do this on my own”.

My therapist is the one person I TRY not to do that with, push away in that sense.

What I wrote, and what I meant to write, was something along the lines of “I know I’m resistive, I know I’m difficult, and I’m acknowledging this as something I actively want to work on, and I’m sorry. Please don’t give up on me“.
What she took it as was “this isn’t working, we’re doing this the wrong way, we need to change what we’re doing“.

I want to hate her, because thats a feeling I understand. I want to yell at her for taking what I felt and meant so miserably wrong, and for not understanding me in my attempt to submit and give up my fucked up and difficult ways.

All I want to do right now is swallow a fucking bottle full of klonopin. I do not want to be here anymore, I don’t want to do this. All everyone does is fucking give up on me, and honestly? If everyone else does, why the fuck shouldn’t I?

I’m a bad mom, I’m a bad wife, I’m even fucking terrible at therapy.

I have been trying so fucking hard to learn how to be vulnerable and fucking TRUSTING of somebody. It’s not something I know how to do, and it scares the shit out of me.

And this is why. This is fucking why.

Because people fucking hurt you. They give up on you when you literally hand them words on a paper asking them not to give up on you.

This is the single reason alone why I have had my guard up, my walls up miles fucking high.

I guess I did it. I pushed her away too. The one fucking person who I was trying so hard to allow myself to be vulnerable with. This is what I fucking get for it.

I’m a terrible fucking person, and I don’t deserve anything better. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not surprised.
But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t fucking hurt.