I admit it; I’m struggling big time, and actually I have been for a few weeks, and I’m just gradually sliding lower and lower each day. I’ve been telling myself ‘it’ll pass soon’, but would very much like that ‘soon’ to become ‘now.’
Tomorrow I’m going to be brave and admit to my therapist that I have strong suicidal feelings. My close friends and partner know, and I don’t feel at risk – currently I’m able to keep separate feeling and intention. I want to live, I’m excited for various aspects of my future. But, reasonably, every so often the aftermath of my past takes a hold over my mental health, and the despair and suicidal feelings that I simply couldn’t afford to feel before (but which were surely there on some level, let’s be real, who actually would continuously want to live through that for the blind hope of a future?) rear their ugly head. It’s like a different kind of memory recovery, an entirely emotional one, but the result is I feel like I’m swimming in a pool of black sticky tar. And sinking, slowly, and as though it doesn’t matter how hard I fight it, I’m still sinking. Somehow it feels easier not to fight, I’m so tired. I just want life to stop. I don’t want life to end. I just want it to temporarily stop.
It’s harder and harder for me to concentrate, trying to focus through the fog and sensation of drowning slowly isn’t easy. I just want to be in bed and asleep, except sleep has nightmares. I just want to be in bed and my mind be empty – for the memories to not exist anymore, for everything to become nothing, for a peaceful oblivion whilst my mind rejuvenates itself. I can sense I am more short-tempered, and impatient. The slightest thing drives me crazy and has me either in tears or close to it. I’m hyper aware of conversations, so I can keep up – now you’re supposed to laugh. LAUGH. So I make myself laugh. My cheeks ache from false smiles and false laughter. I laugh *loudly* so people think I’m okay. I’ve become excruciatingly paranoid and its exhausting. I’m terrified of losing someone else I love. I’m terrified that something will happen to them when I’m not around, and somehow I could have prevented it if I was there. I’m scared to death of that. The reality that I lost everyone I love (except for siblings) either through them being trapped in a huge system and I’ll never find them, or through actual loss, seems to have hit me hard lately. I’m scared of it happening again and can’t seem to stop thinking about those I have lost. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about it. The grief, therefore, is on a constant high.
People tell me to move on, to let it go, to stop thinking about it. It’s not that easy. I’m not choosing to look at this pain. Christ I just want it to stop. But the pain needs to be properly felt now that I’m safe enough, to be properly acknowledged and soothed and processed. That’s the only way I will heal; if I allow myself to feel the pain that I should have been able to feel at the time. So much of me was hurt and never had the space in which to convey that. It’s only fair that can happen now, now that I’m safe enough.
But I hate being in so much pain. I hate that it’s now abnormal for me to not cry at least once a day. Panic attacks are plaguing me, and I frequently wake up in the night silently crying. Often I break down during the day, in a bathroom, and the effort to get myself up and out of the house each day is growing. I have to force myself to get up, and force myself to get washed, and force myself to get my stuff, and force myself to leave the house and face another day. Without proper force, I would just stay in bed. I have to bribe myself “If you get through this next half hour, you can have a five minute rest of doing nothing.” This is how I’m getting through days. I turn up to meetings and duties with a false smile and a sense of drowning and try to remember how to function. I cry the second nobody is around. I drag my tired body around campus, and coax my exhausted and painful mind to keep trying, to keep going…
And the old suicidal voice is back, that niggling feeling. So not only do I have overwhelming despair and pain that are suicidal feelings, but I have the voice: “If you never woke up, would anyone notice…?” “You hurt so many people, they’d be better off…” “Come on now, you know you can’t live in this pain anymore…” “If you just let go of life, you can be back with your babies…”
So far, I can keep the niggling feeling separate from reality. But I catch myself, using a knife to cut up food and thinking “this could be so quick…” or taking pain relief for fibromyalgia and for half a second daydreaming of taking so many that I enter oblivion calmly and peacefully… or walking on the pavement and seeing a bus coming up, and for half a second thinking – it could all be over in seconds.
Each time I catch myself and shake sense back into me, and push the overwhelming depression away enough that I can breathe – I am dragged into the black tar but manage to find the strength to kick back out of it enough to free my head and airways, my eyes so I can remind myself the world is okay.
I am depressed. I am not well. Everything is forced and everything is a battle. Holding conversations just exhausts me, and yet I know I must…I know I must keep doing everything as I would normally do, because if I give up and stop, the black tar will completely drown me… 😦
I guess we’ll see how tomorrow’s therapy session goes. But I can’t pretend that I’m okay anymore, or that this is just one bad day. I need help… to process this pain safely… but the guilt, the overwhelming guilt which is contributing so much to this feeling, the guilt stops me from asking. Because every time I go to ask, I think of those who didn’t make it whilst I did, and I think do I deserve help? Really? I survived, others didn’t, I should just be grateful and pull myself together.
God get me through this dark phase soon 😦