Losing Control

I’m fed up. The year has only begun, yet it feels like December all over again.

I’m tired, stressed, and overwhelmed. January is a terrible time financially for most people. I’m feeling the pain of being broke right about now, and having debit orders bounce. I’m also having some family issues, and on the verge of just taking my shit and getting the hell out of here. Right now, Elizabeth is the only reason I haven’t given up on life.

My therapist is only back on the 8th, and we hadn’t set up a session before she left. I’m so pissed off with myself over that. I was so fucking stupid!

I’m struggling like hell to just get through today in one piece. I can feel certain parts stirring, wanting to get out and be let loose. Don’t know if I can control one of them in particular, who is dangerously close.

The Missing Writer

I’ve been meaning to write a post explaining my previous few posts, which may have been confusing, and some of which might have had no solid context for you. But I haven’t been able to do that yet. And I’m not sure whether I will be able to either.

I’ve been having a really hard time with writing lately. I’ve started so many new posts, but ended up scrapping them all. Writing usually helps me organize my thoughts, process my emotions, and provide insight into myself. But that hasn’t been my experience for the past couple of weeks.

Instead, it’s been a source of even more confusion, annoyance, and despair. I’ve been struggling to express my thoughts, struggles, and feelings. Especially through writing, which is a strange experience for me.

There’s also a part of me that’s reconsidering this blog. The threat of having this blog discovered by those I want to keep it a secret from suddenly seems more real. It feels more risky than ever before. Even the thought of people I’ve never met having insight into my life, my self, is frightening.

The things I want to write about, the things I want to explain (like my previous posts), just feel too vulnerable. I’ve been vulnerable here plenty of times, so I don’t understand why it suddenly feels so insurmountable and anxiety provoking. Maybe I just need a break away from posting for a while.

I have therapy tomorrow morning, and I’m feeling pretty damn anxious about it. I’m worried that I won’t be able to connect with my therapist. Why? I feel disconnected from everyone in my life. It’s as if I’ve subconsciously been pushing them away internally. I also feel torn. There are two important topics to talk about, but I don’t know which is more important… I feel like there’s just too much to talk about, and not enough time. That I won’t say what’s on my mind, and talk about random shit that I actually don’t care about. That tends to happen often with me.

I feel extremely frustrated. At this point, it seems I need two sessions a week for a while, there’s just so much to cover. I feel overwhelmed with it all. And the topics, or at least one of them, will require a lot of sessions, as they’re causing me a lot of distress and impacting my relationships and life. To such an extent that I feel it will be easier to just give up on life so I don’t have to deal with these things anymore, and save the people in my life a mountain of negative emotions.

I’m just all over the place, and don’t know what’s next.

This post has taken me an hour to write. I just don’t know anymore. I’m done writing now. For how long, I have no idea. Let’s see what happens.

Is It True?

I have been in a relatively good mood today. Nothing special happened, I was just at peace.

But right now I’m not doing so well. Right now I feel as though I was hit by a truck carrying huge stone pillars, and I’m lying in the road, unable to move.

A few hours ago, I randomly (friend of a friend of a friend, I can’t remember) came across one of the guys who had taken something very valuable away from me, and suddenly I had a way to contact him. When I saw his picture, I froze, and it felt as though all the blood had drained from my body. Then I had the sensation of things crawling all over me. But within a few seconds, I just went numb.

I’ve been wanting to write a letter to this particular guy for years now, but never had a way to get into contact. And I also wasn’t sure whether I really wanted to send him one. So tonight, I wrote that letter, while feeling unreal, as though I just didn’t exist. Someone else was writing. The world seemed to move in slow motion.

But I couldn’t send it. I was terrified. And then, suddenly nothing felt real. All my memories of everything that ever happened, not just this event, didn’t feel real. I felt, and still feel so confused. What if this never really happened? That nothing that happened in my life, happened? What if my mind had created this elaborate set of memories that I have carried with me all these years, but they weren’t true? That all the ‘memories’ that I felt, and feel, emotionally and physically aren’t really there? I don’t know what to believe anymore. I feel lost, and like I don’t even know where I am right now.

I don’t want to bring it up in therapy, because I’ve spent a few sessions already on what this guy did to me and how it’s affected, and still is, affecting me. I don’t want to rehash it all the damn time. A part of me also feels ashamed to keep bringing it up. Like I don’t have the right to.

I haven’t had any episodes of suicidal ideation for more than a month now (which was a welcome change), but right now, tonight, it’s back. I’m hoping that by writing this, I’ll get out of this mindset.

I’m doubting myself. And right now it hurts. It all hurts so damn much.

Dream: The Room Under The Stairs

It was dark. Quiet. So dark that I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face. The only sound piercing the silence, was the rhythmic breathing of someone sleeping nearby. Confused and disoriented, I tried to remember where I was, and why.

Suddenly the door opened, and light illuminated the room. It was a tiny space, and I knew it was under the stairs. The silhouette of someone looming in the doorway, confused me even more. Who was he? He came into focus then, and I could see he was a doctor, with the usual white scrubs. He told me to come with him, and that it was my daily break from the room. I got up, and saw the sleeping figure next to me. It was Jasmine. That would be the last time I’d see her in the dream. I walked outside into a long, white corridor, that seemed to stretch for miles in both directions. I followed the doctor, and suddenly he started fading. I could see straight through him, until he disappeared completely. I was left standing in the hallway of the hospital, blinking in the bright light. All around me I could see people talking, laughing and hugging one another. But I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They seemed a world away. I was experiencing derealization in the dream itself.

A voice from behind me shook me back into the here and now. I spun around, my heart racing, my eyes struggling to bring the person into focus. It was the doctor again. He told me it’s time to go back. That my time was over. I begged him to give me my phone, but he wouldn’t listen. The more I begged and pleaded, the angrier he got. He dragged me to the door of the room, and shoved me inside. I hit my head on the ceiling, collapsing onto the bed. The door closed, and everything went dark again. The feeling of being trapped overwhelmed me, and I was struggling to breath. And this time I was alone…

In the room under the stairs.