Friday, 27 April 2012

Today's therapy session was without question the worst one I've had.

All I can say about it is I didn't throw the box of tissues at her, I didn't start screaming and I didn't walk out or tell her to fuck it, all of which I wanted to do.

I also didn't come home and slit my wrists, which seemed the only possible outcome.

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Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Diary extract

This isn't going to end. I want to b dead. I hate myself for creating the pain. I hate the pain and I hate me for creating it. I should have just killed myself when when things first got really bad. When I first wanted to do it. I should have just done it then. I'm a coward that I didn't just do it right then. Or last year, when the anniversary was so bad. I said I wasn't going to be here for another anniversary, yet look what tommorrow is. WHY CAN'T I JUST FUCKING KILL MYSELF AND BE DONE WITH THIS FUCKING MISERY? I hate the pain and I hate myself for creating it. What kind of a fucking freak am I that THAT was the best thing my subconscious could come up with to deal with my problems. I want to die. Plz just make the pain stop. Please. I want to beat the fucking shit out of myself for creating this fucking pain. Punching myself over n over in the shoulder 'I fucking hate you. Let me go.'

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Saturday, 21 April 2012

I'm in hideous, excruciating agony and I have been for days. I have t slept since I don't-know-when. I drugged myself into insensibility yesterday and it still didn't help the pain. I'm a hair's breadth from ending it all.

The therapy session today was the worst one yet, because this time I felt like she had no idea what I was on about. And what she's suggesting I need to do - to basically change my whole fucking personality before there's any chance of the pain stopping - I don't have the strength. I don't even know where to start.

I want to sob my heart out but it hurts too fucking much. I can't do this and I don't want to. There's no point. Why go through all this, to still be in pain? I might just as well kill myself now. I really really want to. You have no idea how much I want to just slit my throat. Ear to ear, and that would be it. I don't know what I'm living for as it is - no job, no life. I want to die, right now. I just want to die. Please just fucking kill me now. I'd give anything for someone to just kill me right now.

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Monday, 16 April 2012

i feel an enormous sense of loss tonight. Loss of innocence, loss of carefreeness, loss of the confidence to trust the world. It was all taken away from me, and that feels unbearably sad.

It all goes back to the summer before I turned nine years old. Everything goes back to then. That's when the somatizing started, when the guilt and the blame started, when the anger and the need to punish myself started.

Because they all acted like it was my fault. Like all the terrible things that had happened and were still happening were all my fault. And I believed them; I was a child, they were the grownups, and I believed them. I believed that the reason my mother didn't love me was that there was something wrong with me. I believed that she pushed me away and wanted R instead because I was somehow defective - missing some critical component that R had. I believed that I had somehow done something that had 'made' my father molest and rape me.

Those were the messages I received, and I believed them. I didn't understand what was happening, I didn't understand how people could do those things - how parents could do those things - so I believed it must be because I did something wrong. Something terrible. That I WAS something terrible.

That feeling, thought, was too big and too awful for my tiny 8-year-old mind to fathom, so it hid. It blocked out the memories, and it created ways of coping with the feelings that wouldn't go away even when the memories did; punishing myself with illnesses and injuries and self-harm, denying myself sleep or any kind of true rest, filling my days with anger and self-recriminatioon, setting impossible standards so the only option was failure, plaguing myself with unattainable fantasies of being loved and wanted.

For 30 years, those feelings persisted; it's only now that I'm even aware of why they're there. Twelve years after recovering those lost memories, uncovering what my father did while my mother sat there, and I'm only now getting to the real heart of it all.

I'm getting 30 years of suppressed feelings all at once. All the things I couldn't feel as a small child, I can now see and understand as my abusive parents' way of 'clearing' their own conscience by passing the blame on to me. Now, I can see that for what I was - further abuse - and I can reject it. But to do that, I have to feel those feelings that 8-year-old me couldn't cope with.

I would have lost my mind if I'd felt it all back then. I understand why my subconscious did what it did in burying the memories and coping with the feelings - it was making the best it could of a very bad situation. I have to praise the resourcefulness of that little girl really, that enabled me NOT to lose my mind - to be as stable and as well-functioning an adult as I am. It's pretty bloody miraclulous, under the circumstances. The surprising thing really is that it didn't turn me into a raging psychopath myself.

But recovering from it now, learning that those coping mechanisms are no longer necessary and can be stopped - including, crucially, the pain - that means feeling those feelings. All 30 years' of them. All at once.

Now you see why it's so overwhelming. Now you see why I feel like I'm drowning. Because there's no 'off' switch, there's no 'pause'. Having opened the door, it's now constant. And the depth and breadth of those feelings - it just makes me want to die. The sense of loss at everything that was taken away from me.

If I had my time again, I wouldn't do the therapy. It's too much pain.

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Friday, 13 April 2012

This should've been posted at 3am, but the internet was down...

I haven't been on for a while because there's nothing to say. Things continue to get worse and worse, mentally and physically, and increasingly, there seems to be only one way out of all this.

I don't want to, but if the therapy doesn't resolve the pain, I'll have no choice. I can't carry on like this. I desperately want to stop the therapy, because the feelings it's bringing up are infinitely worse than the pain (not that I would ever have thought that was possible). I daren't stop though, because I'd never know if I was on the cusp of change and things might've improved if I'd just held on for a few more days.

But if I keep going till things improve mentally, and there's no change in the pain, then that's the cut-off point.

It's been five years, I've tried every pharmacological option they've offered me, and by then I'll have exhausted every psychological possibility. At which point, I'm out.

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Sunday, 8 April 2012

Well my mother has just proved herself yet again.

She texted asking how I was - I said (and I quote) 'I'm extremely bad but I really don't want to talk about it. Thanks for asking tho.'

Any normal person (like every single one of my friends) would say something like 'I'm so sorry you're having such a bad time, I'm here if you need me.' Most of my friends would add that they love or care about me, that things will get better, or they'd talk about something else, to try and cheer me up.

My mother, though, said precisely nothing. Not a single word of love or support. Nothing. What kind of fucking mother does that?

I can't even say I'm disappointed, because it's not like it was a surprise. I'm not upset or anything, but I do hate her, and I feel vindicated in my decision to tell her we're done. She had her chance and she blew yet, yet again. She really is the most supreme waste of space. I just don't understand why I had to get such a bitch for a mother.

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Saturday, 7 April 2012

I don't want to feel this anymore. I would rather have the pain.

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Monday, 2 April 2012

I'm lying in bed, I'm not in pain and I have no neck pressure. None. Honest.

It's been a good pain-day all day. There's been only a very little pain or neck pressure, and what there was, felt very 'vague' and kind of distant. And totally acceptable. Now this, I could live with.

I am suffering some other somatizing symptoms, but they're bearable. I do hope it's not just that things are shifting.

I did have to take top-up pills just before midnight because I was getting quite a bit of muscular pain in my back (the 'morphine pains'), but they worked. I'm getting very minimal side effects, and nothing unpleasant - just feeling slightly 'floaty'.

And I am so loving lying here, revelling in the painless-ness. I can feel my arm and my shoulder and my neck and my back and NONE OF THEM HURT.

Do you have any idea how amazing it is to focus on your shoulder, and not feel pain? I do the meditation 'send your consciousness to the affected part of the body', and there's nothing there. It's just a fabulous soft nothingness.

The same with my eye. I can't remember the last time I didn't have at least some screwdriver-in-the-eye going on.

I think I might be in heaven.

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