Busting my crippled ass off to get better but there’s no room in this society to vent so I will stop. Sorry and good luck.
It is all too much. I don’t know why I’m trying anymore. It feels pointless. I hate myself so much.
I’ve been trying so hard. I have found a therapist. I’ve had 2 sessions. I’m in a support group for female survivors with disabilities. But I keep sinking. I’m exhausted. Not sure I have the resolve. I’m still not able to talk about it.
I wish God was real. I wish someone was listening. I’m not really alive anymore. I just hope it ends soon. I really shouldn’t be here anymore. I’m sorry that I am.
I started going to a group for women survivors with disabilities at the same center I received peer counseling. It has been overwhelming. I’ve been to 3 out of 5.
I have a very hard time being real about how I feel in person. I guess I didn’t realize how much of a fake smile I hide behind… But that fell apart there. I fell apart. I’m not where these other women are. I can’t stop thinking of all of the things that make me different. The biggest one being that this is not a new trauma. I was a kid. It stopped years ago. They were talking about what they went through and I froze up. I didn’t realize that I was digging my nails into my hand but once I noticed, I stopped. I don’t know if this is self harm. I’ve not been cutting, but it is often on my mind. I wonder if it would make me less suicidal though. Is it really that bad? Or are people just creeped out and I’m bending to them? Not that many people know… Only my husband and 1 friend. I started when I was 10. It made me a freak but I didn’t care. Now, I read some 16 year old is cutting cuz her boyfriend of 1 week broke up. I guess it’s just normal now…
As the other women spoke so freely, I felt sad that I couldn’t. I almost shared a little but it took me too long to spit it out and I missed my chance. That’s ok. I would have regretted it.
Last week’s activity was to draw symbols on print out faces to show who we want to transform into. I’m not creative. All I could think of is tearing up the page. Destroying it. Destroying me, I guess. I had a panic attack in front of these people and it was very embarrassing.
We also did 5 minutes journaling about what we are proud of ourselves for. I am not. The things that I was proud of make me sad now. The mission work I did… I was helping bad people and I didn’t know.
I’m not sure I can be helped. Meditation exercises cause me anxiety and gratitude journaling stuff makes me feel like a terrible person.
I asked for help finding therapy AGAIN. The “victim advocate” asked if I had met with an advocate yet. That felt awful. I met with HER. In June. I guess that means nothing has been happening.
I’m in too much pain to move today. I can’t quiet my thoughts. I can’t really tell anyone the stuff in my head anyways. I’m just broken…
Oh, and my Mom notified me that my Dad’s mental state is “going downhill fast” and I don’t know what I think or feel. I feel almost numb about it in a way I don’t quite know how to describe. I’m usually filled with thoughts and feelings. It’s different.
I used to love people. Trusted easily. Too easily… I don’t know who I am anymore. It shouldn’t be this hard to find therapy. I’m angry about this. I didn’t ask for any of this…
I don’t know why I’m crying but I can’t stop. Too many things in my head that I can’t say maybe. I don’t know why I feel so alone when so many people care. I can’t turn to anyone with this stuff though.
My husband and I celebrate our 5 year anniversary on Monday. I love him so much. Nobody is perfect, right? Sure, he’s been insensitive at times. But he takes good care of me. He does whatever I need help with…if I ask. He changes my insulin pump and stuff like that. If I ask him to take me to the park, his eyes light up because I never feel good anymore. I know he loves me. I know he’s my anchor. And sometimes I feel like he’s the reason I survived. But lately, I worry that I made a mistake. I would never want to go through life without him but I’m kinda checking out and I wish nobody good will get hurt. I keep holding on for him but I’m cracking.