Hello, it’s been a while again…
About a year ago I’ve started self-medicating. Obviously, that could mean a lot of things… but thanks to that, I’ve stopped hurting myself. Mostly. I’ve been better, if you’ve wondered, or at least I would like to think I did. There were days where I couldn’t stop crying, because I was so confused and so lonely, although I was never truly alone. That happened for months in a row, a whole year it took me to finally stop having nightmares and panic attacks. All my friends were ready, at any point, to find me not breathing anymore, they’ve all even thought of things of what to tell my family if anything did happen. Thankfully, I got better… have I not?
I’ve surrounded myself with people that get me too distracted to stop and think about myself. I was so busy with their life, I put mine on hold and helped them instead, like a good friend would. They truly do love me, but sometimes I get the feeling they don’t actually like me? Maybe those are just my personal insecurities talking, but I can’t stop doubting myself. I feel like a waste of space, even though no one thinks that about me. I still feel lost and most of the time I talk to myself about it instead of my friends or my partner. I don’t want to burden them with my unfounded and dumb thoughts, so I have conversations with myself instead.
It worked for a while, but here I am again. None of them are actually going to see this so I don’t mind sharing, but even here I feel like I’m asking for attention. I don’t like opening up, I don’t even want to, most of the things I have been through a lot of other people have aswell. I recently had a conversation with a friend that shared my experience of similar abuse, but it felt rather forced and unpleasant. I wanted so much to finally share with someone what I’ve been through, but when I did it was met with silence and a slight nod of the head. Hardly the response I wanted, assuming I’d receive some sort of consolation and I felt bad for even saying anything. My expectations were too high and so, it put me even further down a never-ending rabbit hole of self-doubt. Was I saying too much? Were they not ready to hear my story? Am I longing for something I will never receive?
I thought opening up about my trauma and abuse will feel liberating, that I, like so many others who have opened up, will finally find some sense of peace. However, I felt dirty, I got goosebumps and I was choking up but couldn’t cry. I was feeling abused all over again, his fingers on my chest again like they were reaching inside my skin, grabbing onto my heart to stop it from beating. I couldn’t breathe and it triggered memories in me of other times when some other kind souls were willing to listen, and yet I ran away from them. I refused to take someone’s full attention, for another who didn’t care much to even have a conversation in the first place. Why didn’t I tell them and not this friend who wasn’t ready to listen or rather didn’t even care? It was treated like a passing conversation, almost like I was telling someone else’s story.
I wish I didn’t sound like I’m asking for attention, but that conversation made me feel like I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. Now, I’m scared again and I don’t think I will ever repeat it. Don’t think this is the fault of this particular friend of mine, I’ve tried opening up before, and yet again it felt like I wasn’t truly listened. It felt like I’ve just cut my soul in half for someone to look inside it and was met with a slight nod of the head, a sigh, a deafening silence. Sometimes I look at people with such a desperation I want them to ask, to sit me down and let me cry it out. But most of the time I just cry by myself and talk to the air or to the people on TV, hoping they will hear me.
It sounds like i’m in constant pain, but I’ve been better. I hardly find myself unhappy anymore, I constantly search for things to do, trying to lead this hard-working, fast life so I don’t fall again. Yet I’ve fallen so many times, but I don’t make a scene out of it anymore. I don’t tell anyone, not even my partner. I’ve realised in my past relationships that none of the others knew how to deal with my pain, shouldn’t even have asked, but I was a child and I want to apologise to them for that.
Maybe I’ll write again soon, but for now this is an update to you and myself, I want to let you know I’m okay, but it’s getting hard again and I don’t know how to deal with it anymore.
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