Feeling The Heart Of The Little One

Little lost girl…
Stranded on an island, with no one in sight
Abandoned…
And no hope of ever being rescued

I am her
And she is me
But I don’t know how to save her

I Tried. I’m Trying.

Where did I go?
I’m a stranger.

Waking up in the morning. Sitting outside with my coffee. Trying to be mindful and focus on the quiet and the cold air on my skin. Telling myself over and over again. “Today is going to be a good day”.
I’m trying.

The positive voice having been drowned out hour by hour. Exhausted with the effort of trying to keep it alive throughout the day. Going to sleep at night. Wishing not to wake up. I tried.

Wanting to join in the conversation. Can’t make sense of what they’re saying. Sounding so far away. Wanting to connect. Afraid to connect. I smile anyway, not hearing a word.
But I’m trying.

A touch on my back by someone non threatening. My blood running cold. Fear taking over. Backing away. The shock on his face. Wanting to apologize. The words wouldn’t come.
I tried.

I did all my work today. How? I have no memory of having done any of it. But I did it.
I’m still trying.

Emotionally empty. A thick fog surrounding me. Yet acutely aware of the physical. Feeling sick. Have to get up and move. Body aching.
I tried.

Cold inside. Frozen. Sitting in the sun. But the rays can’t penetrate.
I’m trying.

Getting confused about everything. Struggling to remember even why I’m doing what I’m doing in a given moment. Everything a blur. Doing grounding work. But I can’t focus.
I tried.

This heart, once so full of love and care. Now feels like a shadow. Maybe it’s been ripped out. Needing to find the light again. But it’s gone.
I’m trying.

I wanted to make her proud of me. Believe in me. Doing all the things we spoke about. I failed at it all.
At least I tried.

“Just keep breathing.” Breathing hurts.
But I’m trying.

I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want to be loved. I don’t want anything from anyone. I don’t want me.

Trying to be inspiring. Positive. Full of light. Love. But I can’t. Not today. I just don’t care.

Wanting to curl up on the cold floor. Just lay there for an eternity.

I don’t have the energy to think of suicide.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to die.

My ‘Dear Death‘ post now feels like a distant memory. I’m writing a new letter. A simple one.

Dear Life
Let me go.

Insecurity, Hot On The Heels Of Vulnerability

Therapy is hard sometimes.

And yesterdays session was one of those.

I’m always open during my sessions, and trust my therapist with things I can’t ever speak to anyone else about. She holds my secrets.

But this one was particularly difficult for me. For some reason it felt like I was more exposed than ever before. I’ve told her lots of things, some worse than what I revealed to her yesterday, I think. Yet, this just felt different. It was the hardest thing I’ve told her so far, and I don’t know why that was the case. But she was amazing, and made me feel safe and comforted in those moments.

I can’t even remember what brought it on, but at some point during the session I had a damn panic attack. It was horrible. She was with me every step of the way though, something I’ve never had anyone do for me before. So I’m glad she was there, and not somebody else. She knew how to handle it, and she was gentle and kind, and I got through it.

It was a hard session, but I felt cared for during most of it. But then at one point it went horribly wrong. I took everything as an attack, a judgement. And all I wanted to do was shut down. Disappear.

I felt so fragile. I just wanted her to understand where I was coming from. But it felt like we were on opposite ends of a mountain. I was (metaphorically) yelling things at her, wanting her to really see and understand where I was coming from. And she was yelling things at me from the other side of the mountain, and I felt like she couldn’t really hear me. I felt invisible.

She was pushing me. She told me I need to be pushed sometimes. That she was trying to motivate and encourage me. Whenever she’d tell me that in the past, I would agree. But I realized yesterday that the truth is… I actually don’t need to be pushed. How could I expect her to know that, when even I didn’t realize it until yesterday? I can’t. I need a gentle touch. I’ve had enough “tough love” in my life, and it’s never worked. While it may work for others, for me it has the opposite effect. It makes me feel really low, invisible and even worse about myself. When someone is gentle with me, that encourages me. That motivates me. That pushes me.

I’m not blaming her at all. I’m not attacking or criticizing her. She’s still a hero in my eyes. She’s still up on the pedestal, and in my opinion the best damn therapist there is. I just think we’re both still learning how to work with one another. Every relationship is like that. Figuring out how best to deal with each other.

Seeing that the time was running out, as usual made me feel horrible. I hate it when the session is over. I always wish it could go on a little bit longer. I hate goodbyes. I felt angry, and expressed it in a crappy way. My therapist rightly pointed out that ending sessions makes me anxious, and that I was trying to push her away. I don’t want to push her away, so I don’t know why I still do.

As the session was drawing to a close, we discussed how we felt about it. I realized that I can’t really express my feelings when she asks me my thoughts on the session, and I stumble over my words, because I usually only truly know how it felt to me a little while afterward. My mind seems to work that way… Slow. I need to analyze for a while first. I was happy to hear that she thought it had been a good session. That was reassuring and comforting.

I was going to carry that with me until our next session. Knowing that I have nothing to worry about. Then, this morning, I sent her a text, setting up our next session. And that’s when it went downhill for me. Reading things into every omission. Most of the time she ends a message the same way, by telling me to have a good morning or afternoon. But something was different today. Something so simple. Like also not asking how I was. Ending the next text with something that just felt so impersonal. Small little things that shouldn’t affect me. But those small things brought the insecurity out in full force and I felt so incredibly hurt and confused. And that intensified with the email she sent a little while ago. Most of the time our communication feels warm and soothing. This time it felt so impersonal and distant. Clinical. As if we were strangers. I keep telling myself that she’s just really busy or tired, which is the most likely scenario. I think this insecurity was caused by the after effects of being so revealing yesterday. I always tell her about things that she said that upset me, and most of the time I had just read the situation wrong. She handles it so well. So I’m hoping that once again this is the case.

But still, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s disappointed in me. I hate being so damn sensitive.

I still feel vulnerable and ashamed from yesterday. The remnants of the shame I’ve always felt about that specific event but that I would quickly push down? Because it’s one of those things that I barely ever wanted to admit to myself, and pushed away whenever it would surface. But I feel like maybe I shouldn’t have told her that after all. I’m feeling very insecure about it. Insecure in myself. And most of all… Embarrassed. Exposed. Vulnerable.

And then the thought came: What if she didn’t believe me? What if she doesn’t like me anymore?” Where is all this insecurity coming from? And why do I still feel so fragile? Like the tiniest thing will just rip me into pieces.

It seems that for me, being vulnerable opens the door for insecurity to enter. Sharing something very personal and difficult is a major risk. Even when it’s sharing it with someone you trust very much, it’s still daunting.

I so desperately want her to believe in me, but how can I expect her to when I don’t even believe in myself? As she pointed out, I have a habit of giving up too soon, of quitting. Which is the truth. I’m surprised I’ve managed to keep this blog up for so long. I’ve only had one person in my life who believed in me, and would tell me that often. And knowing that, I always did my best. One positive voice drowned out all the negative voices that kept telling me that I’ll never amount to anything. That I couldn’t do something. But her belief in me, pushed me to do and be my best and not give up no matter how hard something was. That person was my grandmother. My best friend in the whole world. The world that crashed down around me when she went away. After that, something changed. No longer did I have her encouraging voice, and the negative voices gained a powerful foothold. And I let it.

Scared. Insecure. Did I share too much? And why does it feel like my heart is breaking?

I feel this incredible need to beg her to stay. Like a child holding onto her parents legs, begging them not to leave.

Maybe she should walk away. She’ll have to do it though, because I won’t be able to.

I just don’t feel worth it anymore.

Am I still worth it to her?

Free

Nowhere to run
Nowhere to hide
Push away the sun
Keep the dark inside

Too many voices
Too many tears
Do I have any choices
Does life determine my years

Push away the images
But they follow at night
Trying to build bridges
While I desperately fight

What’s real, what’s not
Am I here, or am I there
Feeling ice cold, now what
I can’t handle the suns glare

Fear quickly follows shame
I’m so damn confused
Tell me who’s to blame
I feel so terribly used

What’s happening to me
Over and over it goes
I just want to be free
Free as the wind that blows

When Words Fail

Some days we just don’t have the words. Some days we just don’t have the strength. And sometimes a song can speak for us. This is one of those times.

“Breathe Me” Lyrics:

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And the worst part is there’s no one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch, I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah, I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me