On My Own
I've been living alone for a little over a year now. Truth be told, I really enjoy the solitude. I like doing things my way, and even though I feel a bit guilty for not having housekeeping standards up to those I grew up with, I am pretty good at keeping up with things considering I work full time and have to fight this damned energy-draining depression.
But emotionally this past year has been harder than I ever thought it could be. I've come closer to suicide than I ever did in the past, and there's not a day I don't sob and cry, sometimes over nothing, sometimes over everything. I wish I could have been one of those people who can take everything in stride, who could have learned to deal with my ex's situation better, who could have just accepted. I miss him so much. I have her in my life as a close and dear friend, but it's not the same. I miss having someone I could turn to, someone who I knew loved me and wanted me, someone to hold me once in a while. But I wasn't strong enough to live that way, and I couldn't get over the bad things. She's happier now, too, has made great strides in living full-time and self-acceptance, and it gladdens me to see her so happy. When I'm not mourning my loss, that is.
So many losses. Susan, my therapist, says I'm "resilient". That I've made progress in healing, in learning, in accepting, in making changes. But I don't think so. I feel like every day I slip further and further backwards into the pain and the self-loathing and hatred I grew up with, that I know so well. Wouldn't it be nice if one day, just one day, I believed I deserved to live just because I was alive? Instead I know that I'm not meant to be here, that I'm a mistake created from hatred and fear, that in order to justify the air I breathe I must be, above all, useful, and never, never, never want or need anything.
That's so hard to overcome. I can check the thoughts a thousand times, stop them, tell myself anything else, and still they come, unbidden. When I'm tired or stressed I can't fight them, they take over, and make me more tired and more stressed. It's so tempting to walk down to the railroad tracks and just wait. But I can't. I have to keep going. Why? I don't know, I'm not sure. There still seems to be some small spark inside. Maybe it's nothing more than stubbornness.
But emotionally this past year has been harder than I ever thought it could be. I've come closer to suicide than I ever did in the past, and there's not a day I don't sob and cry, sometimes over nothing, sometimes over everything. I wish I could have been one of those people who can take everything in stride, who could have learned to deal with my ex's situation better, who could have just accepted. I miss him so much. I have her in my life as a close and dear friend, but it's not the same. I miss having someone I could turn to, someone who I knew loved me and wanted me, someone to hold me once in a while. But I wasn't strong enough to live that way, and I couldn't get over the bad things. She's happier now, too, has made great strides in living full-time and self-acceptance, and it gladdens me to see her so happy. When I'm not mourning my loss, that is.
So many losses. Susan, my therapist, says I'm "resilient". That I've made progress in healing, in learning, in accepting, in making changes. But I don't think so. I feel like every day I slip further and further backwards into the pain and the self-loathing and hatred I grew up with, that I know so well. Wouldn't it be nice if one day, just one day, I believed I deserved to live just because I was alive? Instead I know that I'm not meant to be here, that I'm a mistake created from hatred and fear, that in order to justify the air I breathe I must be, above all, useful, and never, never, never want or need anything.
That's so hard to overcome. I can check the thoughts a thousand times, stop them, tell myself anything else, and still they come, unbidden. When I'm tired or stressed I can't fight them, they take over, and make me more tired and more stressed. It's so tempting to walk down to the railroad tracks and just wait. But I can't. I have to keep going. Why? I don't know, I'm not sure. There still seems to be some small spark inside. Maybe it's nothing more than stubbornness.