Twirling, twirling towards freedom

So I’ve ended up using ‘leave out all the rest’ like a sound bath and just kept listening to the damn thing over and over to try and get it out of my head… and it hasn’t worked.  I’ve just been crying a lot.

Don’t be afraid
I’ve taken my beating
I’ve shared what I’ve made
I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you

So if you’re asking me
I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
Don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting all the hurt inside
You’ve learned to hide so well
Pretending someone else can come
And save me from myself
I can’t be who you are

My mind is flying around all over the place.  I’ve spent most of the day crying.  Most of driving home crying.  I feel like if one piece of things could be going well then maybe it might help me crawl away from the abyss.

 

Counsellor suggested going on meds when I went on Friday but I’m terrified.  I don’t want another problem and I’m scared of getting addicted to tablets.  I’m scared of feeling better, even just for a minute and then that all melting away and I’m in the same situation as before.  Counselor says that maybe I need the space to try and help out the part of me that is trying to be productive and unbroken.. I don’t know.

 

I’m feeling so bad again.  I shouldn’t be thinking about how fast and efficient the train is and how it would be pretty instant if I did throw myself under it when I’m coming back the day after my birthday.  I shouldn’t be fantasizing about driving into the crash barrier on the motorway at 90mph.  The reason I haven’t done these things is because I’d want as few people to be dragged into my leaving the world as possible.  I don’t want the guy who has to hose me off the front of the train to have this pain and crap that I feel.  I know that once I’m dead I’ll be devoid of any kind of feeling at all, good and bad… but at the moment that fucking nothingness looks like heaven.  As much as I believe in an after life a nice black void of oblivion would be ace thanks very much.

 

Part of what I’ve discussed with her is my rampant need for perfectionism and to be doing better than everyone else… even though I’m not.  She asked me where I thought it comes from and I really don’t know.  My mom is pushy, I know that much.  I can remember being sad that I got a low grade in DT at secondary school and her badgering me into going to the teacher and asking what I could do to improve because that’s what she did.  I did and I wanted the ground to swallow me up.  Never again.

 

Part of my issues is this job driving me slowly up the wall (the crumbling, badly painted wall that has damp…).  She has suggested considering leaving and downgrading to a job that pays less and immediately my perfectionist sensibilities flare up in horror.  No.  I have to be doing better than my friends.  I have to not be dependent on anyone.  I have to be doing better.  It’s so stupid but it’s how I feel.

 

I keep saying that I want to find a guy who earns more than me, mainly because of the fact my ex was a financial drain… however when anyone buys anything for me I can’t cope with it.  When I did date a guy who earnt a shitload more than me I didn’t know how to react.  Suddenly I was definitely inferior, now I was the one who might be seen as the leech.  Grin feels suddenly horrendously uncomfortable.

 

Then suddenly… random guy I kissed on Saturday asks me out.  This does not happen to me.  This makes me suspicious.  This makes the voice in my head that tells me all the negative shit how he is obviously just after my resources and doesn’t like me as a person. I am too fat to be in a relationship.  I am too needy.  I will destroy this and blow it out of proportion.  I will end up in a shitty relationship again.

 

And then as soon as I’m done thinking that I’m crying because I feel so fucking alone.

 

Don’t be afraid
I’ve taken my beating
I’ve shared what I’ve made
I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you

 

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I survived **sticker**

Don’t be afraid
I’ve taken my beating
I’ve shared what I’ve made
I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you

 

 

So I cried at midnight on my landmark birthday… which, when you consider trying to explain why to someone from an Amazonian tribe just is the most ridiculous thing.

‘You see these numbers… they mean I am now a year older according to a timescale we invented and I am now a number that means I should have achieved a number of things that I haven’t.  This makes me sad’

 

I hid in my room.

 

After sleeping I woke up to open my cards to find out that 30 is obviously the age when you no longer qualify for a birthday card as a niece.  Courtesy of my birthday being on a Wednesday I also hadn’t seen the majority of my friends.

 

I spent the day trying to be civil but failing.  On the journey home I literally lost the power to speak.  I was tired and socialised out.

 

Friday was… shit.

 

I cancelled the Drs appointment which was basically for him to check that I was still alive.  I had about 8 things to juggle (including going away for the weekend) and couldn’t be bothered with it.

 

As a penance I decided to go through my phone assessment for my ‘self-referral’ for CBT.  This is a month after my original ‘incident’.  The phone assessment was the same thing that I have now grown used to… namely me being asked my a stranger to describe my risk of suicide, how I was planning on doing it etc etc etc.  I was then told that I qualified for CBT and I would be contacted in a month for my first session.

 

So this is the situation… to get CBT I will be approximately about 2 months away from me actually putting my head over the parapet to ask for help.  In order to get the help I have probably spoken to at least four strangers, in detail, about wanting to die, not coping and how I would exit this world.  The only thing I have actually been offered by the NHS straight away was diazepan.  I was not told that this is valium.  I have not accepted their offer.

 

With all of this and still feeling the absolute hurt of the hell of Chester Bennington killing himself (I can’t even look at pictures of him, it’s like my heart has been ripped out) I made a new record of bursting into tears as soon as I got into my counselor’s office.  I don’t think I even made it to the sofa.

 

I said I was trying to find a new job, trying to do the best that I can but it’s a constant fight.  I feel like half of me is trying to keep motivated and keep pushing at me while the rest of me just wants to lie on the floor.  Part of me wants to stay on that floor.  It wants to say ‘I can’t fucking do this anymore, you pick up this mess now’  I know it’s stupid and it’s immature and it’s not productive.  Burning up the life I’ve tried to build just to get back at my parents but it’s so fucking tempting.

 

During my unhappy and discontent childhood my mom leant on me heavily as a result of my dad driving away most people she knew with his mental health issues.  She told me a lot of her problems that I shouldn’t have known ranging from money troubles to the fact she wanted to throw in her job.  I know the theory and the fact that this was because she literally had no one else… the issue is that it’s all reminding me of how I used to feel.  Like she was leaching the strength out of my body.

 

My counselor suggested I went back to the Drs and took the drugs.

 

Instead I went camping for the weekend, drank a shitload of rum… kissed a guy I didn’t know and ended up doing a thing (not with him) that I feel like I’m going to regret in the future.

 

Drunken Grin is the herald of chaos.  Definitely a maenad.

 

Looking down the barrel of a week at work and all I want to do is hide in someone’s arms.  I just want to bury my face into a chest that is rock solid, breathe in that guy scent, feel some strong arms round me and then grabbing my wrists.  That is what I want.  That is what feels like is best in life at the moment.

 

 

Leave out all the rest

I can’t cope with the fact that not only is Chester Bennington dead but that he killed himself because of depression.

 

I first came across Linkin Park in my first few years of secondary school when Hybrid Theory came out.  I fell in love with him and his blonde hair and flame tattoos.  When I was about 17 they played at the arena near where I used to live and I got to meet him as part of the fan club.  I shook his hand and he actually looked up at me and smiled.  Obviously this set my teenage heart aflame but I was in such a shitty place back then.  Part of me wonders whether he saw that in me.

 

I had no idea he struggled with depression but I’d heard about his issues with drugs in the past.  All I can think is about how much he has obviously been suffering and it tears me apart.  I wish I could reach out to him and tell him how sorry I am and how I know how that feels.

 

My mom jokes about numb being my ‘teenage anthem’ and it was.  I was probably the most worst I’ve ever been psychologically when that song came out.  I can remember experiencing a few episodes of cognitive dissonance around that time.  That song spoke to me not because of teenage mood swings but because my mind had started to shut down.  I stopped feeling because it was easier than the pain. I cut my dad out of my soul because that was the only way I could survive even though it made me (and still makes me) feel like a terrible human being…

 

Dear chester… I can’t look at pictures of you now without it making my soul ache.  Even 17 or so years after I first came across you I still recognise the beautiful beautiful person that you were.  I’m so sorry that you felt so terrible and felt so much.  I know that people will blame themselves and probably blame you too.  I don’t.  I’m sorry you didn’t get the help you needed to carry on but at the same time I know how exhausting and fucking awful it is to limp along the road.  I send you only love and appreciation for what you brought to the world and hope that you have found the peace you needed.  Love forever x

Glass case of emotion

 

Friday was a bit… full on.  To say that I’m an introvert who is very good at pretending not to be an introvert it’s kind of no surprise to me that I essentially hid in the house yesterday and went out once only to buy cake.

 

Working from home… was basically me looking at the screen and realising that I need to get a new job.  There is nothing that I can physically change to make this job improve.  This means admitting defeat and means admitting that the great big gamble that I took leaving my corporate environment didn’t work out.  This is not something that I’m good at doing.  I do however think that at least if I could get my job sorted and work closer to home that it would make a big difference on where I am psychologically.

 

I went from the living hell of the corporate job straight into a full on job where all the pressure was on me.  I ended up crying all the way home on Friday and when I spoke to my mom about it she said I was ‘stressed out’.. my response was how could I be stressed when the whole thing was that I wasn’t doing enough work because the work isn’t there ‘how can you not hear how that is stressful?’

 

Went to counselling… talked about the work thing and my birthday coming up.  I said I feel like I should have things sorted now….  I know all the theory… I know that realistically turning the age I will be has no cosmic impact, I don’t level up with some sort of lightshow or anything like that, this is all IN MY HEAD.  This doesn’t seem to convince my head though.

 

I’m still overweight, I’m in a job that isn’t working and I am so so so single -_-  It’s not even about having kids.. I mean god if I wanted kids I’d be even more suicidal than I am now.

 

Literally went from crying at counselling to a leaving do for someone I used to work with in my corporate job.  This was full on Grin mastery.  I fixed my make up, stuffed down my emotions and then sashayed into that restaurant full of life and joy.  ‘Oh I’m fine!  Yes the job is brilliant, totally working out and so much better than X!’  ‘Me?  No there’s no one on the scene at the moment but it’s fine!’

 

It is not fine.

 

It also definitely isn’t fine when I drink ¬_¬  Still, I managed to get through the evening and only cried when I got back into the house, totally remembering the Catwoman from Tim Burton’s Batman.  ‘Honey I’m home… oh that’s right I don’t have a husband’.

 

So yes, full on self pity mode activated.

I did it though… I did the social thing and got away with it.

Something’s gotta give

Harlow's Monkey

 

So only two or so days ago I wasn’t feeling too bad.  Tuesday I even went to the gym.  I thought… ‘oh I don’t know what the hell I’m going to even talk about at my counselling appointment’…

 

Oh my sweet summer child.

 

Wednesday… I was just uncomfortable in my skin all day.  I was stuck in the office and people kept coming in to talk to me about my upcoming birthday because they worked out it’s a milestone one… which is, I guess, one of my triggers at the moment.  It’s one of those milestones where I look at my best friends’ family life… married, 3 kids, husband and wife who adore each other.  It makes me want to rip my heart out and disintegrate it so I don’t have to feel the fact that I so so so don’t have that.  I feel fucking lightyears away from it.  Not that I want kids, THANK GOD I don’t have the biological clock thing going on in my head as well…

 

I remember when I turned 21.. it was less about feeling more that I had things ‘sorted’ and more that I was going to mature.  Like I’d turn 21 and then all of a sudden like wine and have a mortgage… and sure enough looking back on that I do drink wine and have a mortgage.  I wasn’t even with my ex then though I’d met him… this is the guy I was with for around 7 years, the one that I thought I would end up with forever.

 

It’s the dumb stuff that you miss.  The sex.. I mean yeah sex is awesome and it’s not like I’ve been a nun since things finished with him but it’s not what I miss the most.  I miss snuggling, I miss the dumb intimate jokes that you have with a partner, I miss treating them to stuff I know they’ll like… I miss planning things with someone else.  I miss the dumb, thoughtless touching.  The constant touching… or at least that’s how it seems in hindsight.

 

A very fluffy robe, wrapped tightly around can feel 5% like a hug when there are no hugs.

 

I did my degree in Psych (oh the blessed irony…) and I remember a study about baby monkeys and comfort.  There was a ‘mom’ made out of wire and one made out of fake fur and even when the fake fur one didn’t provide food or anything else they still clung to it… because of the touch.

 

Humans are animals, humans need touch as much as anything else does… and yet we don’t.  The last time anyone hugged me for more than the 5 second courtesy hug you get from a vague friend was my mom… and I think that was about a month ago.  This isn’t right.

 

Where are the hugging hookers?  That’s what I want to know.

 

So I’m rambling now… but fuck it.  In any event, Wednesday left me feeling shitty and I just came home from work and slumped in front of the TV and then went and shot people in the head on the computer.

 

Today…  I think it’s just been a big neon sign about needing a new job.  There are a number of issues with this that are all bound up in the fact I don’t like admitting defeat and that I HAVE to try and exceed/meet my insanely high standards for myself.  My current job was supposed to be the path to the promised land… it was getting me out of what seemed like a dead end job.  It was going to be the Great Change that would cause me to lose the weight I’d put on, change me psychologically, help me move forward.

 

It did the exact opposite.

 

You hear a lot of one sided shit from employers about how they hired employees off the basis of an interview and the candidate turned out to be rubbish or all mouth and no trousers.  Guess what, it works both ways!  I was sold a job that wasn’t capable of working.  The business is too small for my targets so no matter how much I flog myself to death I feel like I’m not getting anywhere.

 

After getting up at 6.30 and fighting my way through shitty, frustrating traffic I got to work late.  Sat down at my desk in the office I’m currently alone in as everyone is on holiday.  I felt paralysed.  Every phone call I was trying to make was like a war in my mind over the futility of it vs me trying to justify my existence.  Every minute of it felt like it was draining my life energy out of my body.

 

I don’t want to ring up my mentor and confess to the fact that I think I need to go because in my mind I know that he will blame me.  This will be my fault for not following The Process.

 

I came home and ate a load of shitty food and drank a load of cola that I’m supposed to be avoiding.

 

I’m so fucking lonely.  I just want to be held.

Blackbirds

When in my white room at the Charité
I woke towards morning
And heard the blackbird, I understood
Better. Already for some time
I had lost all fear of death. For nothing
Can be wrong with me if I myself
Am nothing. Now
I managed to enjoy
The song of every blackbird after me too.
– Bertolt Brecht

 

So I was randomly driving back from an appointment listening to Radio 4 and that poem pops out of the radio at me because of a program about blackbirds (yes, I know, it’s Radio 4 come on).  That one part stuck in my head and then I was on a mission to try and find out what it was and who had written it.

 

At the moment I feel like I’m in and around that poem.  While I’m currently feeling decidedly less suicidal and generally ‘average’ (usual utter self loathing is standard) I’m living with this fear that this will disappear and I’m going to go back down into that abyss again.  I feel like a child going through one of those indoor hamster style play areas and I’m going to make a turn at the next corner and go down a slide I wasn’t expecting.

 

I’ve managed a few appointments and thanks to being face to face it’s extra draining on my batteries.  Doesn’t help that I’m an introvert. Literally all weekend I was alternating between Netflix with crochet or gaming.  I made myself go out to the shop.  I did see some friends and was my usual jokey self.

 

I wonder how much of my joking/grinning/high functioning is to do what my counsellor said and it’s to try and look after people so they feel good and don’t be hurt by the fact I’m feeling so awful.

 

Every time I come out of counselling my mom wants an update on how it’s gone.  I’ve started to say that I can’t talk to her about it, mainly because a lot of it does involve her whether she likes it or not.  That and I’m still trying to understand how I feel about what we talked about.

 

I really, really wanted to try and get to the gym so I could stop beating myself up about not going to the gym.  Where the hell is the version of me that used to run 10k and walked everywhere and could stick to her low calorie days?

 

I tried telling myself that if I’d nearly died because I’d been hit by a car or had some physical thing wrong with me then I’d be giving myself time to just exist but this isn’t good enough for my inner monologue.  The fact I’m tired isn’t good enough, it’s an excuse.  The fact that I did nearly die (if I’d had the means I know for a fact I wouldn’t be here, I still don’t understand how everyone in America doesn’t just shoot themselves with all the guns everywhere) but due to emotional reasons doesn’t hold any weight here.

 

I just want someone to look after me.  I spent my entire teenage years and childhood having to try and look after my mom and survive my dad where best I could.  My ex tried… he wasn’t all bad despite the fact he’s now remembered by his last impressions.  But he couldn’t.  He earned less than me and then eventually didn’t earn anything at all.  I remember feeling paralyzed when I found out that I was now the breadwinner of our household at 23/24.  All I could think was that it was history repeating itself.  Despite my best attempts at promising myself that I would find a partner who had a boring, stable job I had ended up with a version of my dad.

 

So I had that pressure again of being the one to look after everything.  Know when his family’s birthdays were, buy presents for them for every occasion.  Being responsible for everything apart from the internet (which frequently got cut off when he didn’t pay the bill).

 

And that turned into him resenting me, hating me for it.

 

 

Week 1 complete

I successfully adulted today.  A full week of work.  3 days of those were working from home but to be honest if I was still in the corporate world I think I’d have needed a ‘phased return’ anyway.  I was thinking today how horrendous it would have been if I was still in my mega corporate job with an office full of people who loved sticking their heads in other people’s business.  To get the time off for counselling I probably would have had to do a public announcement.  I certainly couldn’t have got away with only telling my boss and my mentor.

 

On reflection I think one of the (many) reasons that my boss was funny with me is because I do too good a job of plastering a fake smile and making other people laugh as a means of distracting them.  It’s like… don’t look too closely at my expression, you’re laughing now and it’s fun so let’s change the subject.  It works very well.  The other boss who is on his way out of the company (who I haven’t told but let’s not go there) said ‘what was it a virus?  It’s not depression or stress or something?!  You don’t seem the type!’  So I dutifully went ‘ha ha no it was some virus, I feel a bit tired but I’m getting better’.

 

At counselling today I unwittingly did this to her but she used her jedi counsellor abilities and gave me ‘the look’.

 

I had a crazy letter off my crazy dad because my birthday is coming up.  Even though I am speaking into the anonymous void of the internet I’m not even going to go into what he sent because it’s so ridiculous.  Unfortunately when I say ‘crazy’ I mean ‘serious mental health issues’ rather than zany.  I mentioned this to her and then quickly followed it with

Me: “but it will give you a laugh, good for last thing on a Friday”

Her: **Jedi counselor skills initiated** You’re trying to make me laugh to look after me.  You don’t need to look after me.

Me: …… [Fuck I’ve been rumbled]

Her: I think you spend a lot of time trying to look after other people

Me: [Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry]

 

I cried a lot.  A lot.  That kind of shitty crying that you don’t see in Hollywood where you’re basically kind of inhaling and sobbing.  So yeah, struck a nerve there.

 

Due to my crazy dad being crazy for most of my life my mom leant on me more and more and more.  It’s like I hit teenage years and she suddenly decided that I was now her emotional leaning post, counselor and sounding board.  She would tell me about financial issues, about her being stressed at work, about stuff with my dad etc etc etc.  I can remember that by this time I was already working on emotionally detaching myself from my dad and then it was like she was trying to leech the life force energy out of me.

 

I always joked that I internally felt 45 and then I look back on things as I talk about them through counseling and I look at the expression on her face and it validates things more.  Like… fuck, I shouldn’t have had to have dealt with this shit.

 

I have never spoken about these things with anyone.  Ever.  My mom obviously knows the stuff from when she was there but I think she turned a blind eye to a hell of a lot because she was up to her neck in her own stuff.  Obviously I can’t talk to her about the things that involve her because 1) she will get upset and 2) she has the ‘dealing with emotional hurt’ level of a toddler.  Seriously, you accidentally tread on her toe and it’s like you shot her.

 

In any event.  Counselling is helping.  It isn’t going to be a quick fix but every time I go I feel like it’s letting some pressure out.  Unfortunately the gauge is still on red.

 

So when I’m not at work or crying in front of a woman I’ve met three times I’ve been sinking time into games and Netflix.

 

Make the time fly.  Make me fixed.  How will I feel when there’s no raging pressure inside the boiler that is my head?  Will it be better or will I just feel empty of the crap that’s been fueling me for 30 odd years?  A steam engine without the steam doesn’t work right?