I wish I could believe this quote.
I’ve been somewhat in survival mode for so long that it feels I’ll never get out of it. That there’s no end in sight.
My childhood was one of survival. I always thought that once I was out of that stage of my life I would be okay.
But it kept happening. I kept finding myself just trying to be okay from one day to the next.
Is this how it’s always going to be?
Sure, for a month or so here and there I really am okay. Things seem to be getting better. Only for them to blow up once again. I don’t know how long I can keep going this way.
When hope suddenly shatters and turns into despair.
The worst of it is that I’m alone in the struggle. That I have to try to pick myself up, because I know there’s no one else to help me on this journey. No one by my side. Sure, there’s my therapist. But that’s so heavily boundaried, and I’m not even sure about that relationship anymore either. Things don’t feel right. Things have changed.
All I can do is try to get through tonight, every night. Alone.
Too much pressure.
Too much pain.
One shock after another.
One of my friends recently told me that I seem to have the worst luck. Ha!
I try so damn hard. I try to be positive. And for what?
For everything to blow up in my face anyway? For things to continually go wrong? What’s the lesson? Is there even one?
It shouldn’t be this hard. All. the. time.
Why can’t I give my life in exchange for that person I love who’s fighting for his? People need him. They don’t need me. I don’t want to be here anymore.
It’s like shouting into the wind. No answers. No comfort. Just emptiness and silence.
I started off good.
Then came the panic.
The fear happened. And they say fear isn’t the truth.
Now I realize I’m not important.
I don’t deserve the light after all. The love.
I’m not good.
I’m done wishing and hoping…
For the friend I can rely on.
For the university qualification and job I’ve always wanted.
For the love that will stick around.
For the dog I long to be a home for.
For the freedom and security I strive for.
That this idea just might be the one to change my life.
Wishing and hoping don’t always give us what we want.
They say it’s action that can. And I’ve tried so much. So hard.
But I’m out of ideas.
So I’m done…
Every now and then I go through my computer and delete everything I don’t want or need anymore. Those things that I won’t need soon, but still want access to, I put on my external HDD. I don’t like clutter. Not even on my computer. Everything needs to be named properly and be in neat folders.
Today was my clearing day. I came across a letter I had written in December. I don’t want it on my computer anymore, neither on my external. So I’m posting it here instead.
This is the letter I referred to in my post “The Inner Child & Teen“.
Letter To The 14 Year Old
Today I heard you.
I heard your silent screams.
Today I felt your pain.
I cried your tears.
I’ve never allowed you in before.
But today I stayed with you.
And I was you back there again.
Disorientated and confused as you lay your head down.
Not sure what had just happened. Nothing seeming real.
“Help me”, those words spinning round and round your head.
Could anyone hear you? Did anyone know? Could anyone see?
Even within the darkness, unable to see everything…
I feel. I feel your pain and despair. The hopelessness.
The all consuming loneliness.
You just wanted someone to hold you, didn’t you?
The soothing sound of a heart beat, not yours.
Fear. Confusion. Shame. Pain. So much pain.
I wish I could tell you it all works out.
I wish I could tell you the wounds fade quickly.
But I can’t tell you this. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.
It hurts to listen to you. It hurts to be you.
But I’ll try to not leave you alone again.
They say “suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem”. A temporary problem? How about years of “temporary problems”? Being hit time and time again. It’s not just one problem that pushes most people off the edge. It’s the problems that we’re stuck in for weeks, months, years. It all adds up. What then if you’re the problem? Well, then you’re screwed.
There’s only so far that a person can be pushed before they break.
“I’m a temporary problem”. Let them put that on a pretty little picture for google.