It hit again. It’s like a tornado. I know the triggers now. I can see it coming. But I never know how bad the destruction left in its wake will be.
The pain of rejection, loneliness, hopelessness, and not feeling good enough whirls violently through my head with a speed impossible to slow down during my alone time.
The busyness of work masks it. The mindless sweat and determination of my almost daily two hour gym sessions masks it. But I can’t always be working, and I can’t work out all day long.
When I feel it coming I do my best to protect myself from it, much like one would take shelter from an approaching tornado. But sadly, sometimes there’s only so much protection I can provide myself and it’s still not enough. And I fully feel the shame of it not being enough.
The pain and the wanting it all to end hits me at once until I’m left sobbing on the floor with nothing left to hold on to. I tell myself this isn’t reality. That I do want to be here. That I do want to live. That the situations triggering this episode probably aren’t as bad as they seem right now. That I’ll wake up feeling better. But none of that helps. It only makes me feel worse. I feel shame that my mind has escalated these situations. I feel shame for the feelings I have. I am ashamed of my feelings. I know this is a symptom of my childhood where I was taught to shove away all feelings except for happiness. I know this is a symptom of my twenties when I decided I should be chill so I became the girl that could fuck you and leave you. I have worked so hard in the last few years to change this but it’s still not enough. I still don’t know what to do with my feelings.
It’s a cycle of pain, shame and emotions that I can not deal with.
We all hear the things we are supposed to do. Love yourself. Don’t let your worth be determined by or tied to others. If you don’t make yourself a priority no one else will. If you don’t love yourself first no one else will.
Do you know what that creates? Perfectionists hating and shaming themselves because no matter how much they try to be a healthy person, people still suck. Life still sucks.
It’s a fucking vicious cycle.
I text this to a friend:
There’s nothing left for me.
I don’t think I was meant to be here this long.
There’s no point in this struggle when I
literally have nothing to hold on to.
What’s the fucking point? To be stronger?
Those words aren’t meant for attention. He knows that and that’s why I can confide in him. They are truly how I feel.
I’m currently numb and kind of devastated because usually I wake up the next day grateful that I was talked out of my pain once again. Grateful to still be alive. Scared that I almost succumbed.
But this morning nothing has changed. I still feel that way. I am weary. I don’t want to be here. And it doesn’t even scare me.