Dark Nights, Brighter Days

21 Aug

Last night was rough – three short shifts of sleep, all invaded by heart-stopping nightmares and anxiety attacks. My mind and body feel wrecked this morning: broken and exhausted. This dark night could easily be followed by a darker day but I have decided to ignore my pain and fatigue and try to have a brighter day. That is not without difficulty but I believe it is possible.

I have to keep reminding myself that the nightmares will stop … eventually. Without that belief to spur me on, I would be unable to get out of bed today. I would hide from the world, shrouded in darkness, with my own tears for company. I have to push through my grief to walk towards a future in which I can slumber without fear. That journey will continue day by day, little by little. Time kills everything, does it not? I can think of nothing able to withstand the ravages of time. My nightmares will either die with me or before me, but they will die. It’s inevitable.

Help Me

20 Aug

I fell asleep for less than one hour, awakening with a start from another evil nightmare. I cannot endure this any more. I feel sick – my stomach feels like it’s filled with writhing worms and there are stabbing pains shooting through my chest. The nausea I felt when I awoke was so bad, I thought I would vomit into my bed sheets. I cannot take this – the endless fear, anxiety and pain is just too much.

I keep looking at my pills and I want to swallow them all. My mother finished her course of Radiotherapy today yet what I propose to do would kill her far quicker and with more pain than any Cancer. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just forget about the past instead of letting it invade my sleep and destroy my being all over again? I did a stupid thing today … I reached out to The Forgiven One. Will I be falsely accused of harrassment? Will he try to push me to die? Will my parents finally have to bury their daughter?  In my sleep, I see it all: a future as dark as my life, where no-one wins apart from Evil.

Someone help me to end this nightmare. I cannot bear any of this for a second longer. Let me end. Let me go. Let me just sleep. I cannot carry on. I just can’t.

The Switch Has Finally Flipped

20 Aug

It has finally happened … the switch has finally flipped in my brain and, despite the grief I will always carry, I feel ready to accept and bear the weight of my past.

I have fought every ugly reality of the last seven years but I admit defeat. I have stopped kicking and pushing, screaming and weeping – I stand defeated … and that’s a good thing. Sometimes, you have to throw in the towel to place yourself in the best position to fight back in the future. I can choose to lay down and die now, or live to fight another day after a time out to adjust my strategy.

During recent weeks, I have wrestled with my emotions to the point of exhaustion – an action which brought no comfort, resolution nor joy. This week, I have surrendered to my grief in a positive way – acknowledging the realities I wish to ignore and heeding the words of kind strangers.

My troubled history with The Forgiven One is usually confined to my blog; as with my mother’s Cancer battle, it is a private pain, too traumatic to verbalise to the few friends left in my life. Yet, somehow, I found the words to relay a brief overview to a stranger. I speak not of my therapist – I cannot bring myself to discuss my worthlessness in therapy either – but of a former work colleague who was going through a difficult time. I felt it would help her to know that I could relate to the agonies of insecurity, fear and sorrow.

Her immediate reaction was: “Why would you be upset to lose someone like that from your life? He is not worth your friendship. He’s not worth putting yourself down over. You’re not worthless and he’s not worth it.”

The girl has a point.

Once upon a time, The Forgiven One said we would visit New York together as I have never been and wanted to go since childhood. Last month, New York was the location in which he and his girlfriend chose to celebrate her birthday. She, of course, uploaded happy photos across social media – sharing her joy with the world much as I would have done in her position. When I saw the photos, I felt disgusted … not with them but with myself. I felt overwhelmingly stupid and overcome with regret for my choices in life, love and friendship.

The worthlessness The Forgiven One saw in my being has affected my life beyond imagination. I have so few bonds left with the world: my rightful place is in the afterlife. I have spent recent weeks trying to explore and understand my reactions and self-loathing since being backstabbed by The Forgiven One and most behaviour experts seem to make the same point: if someone loses your trust and doesn’t proactively endeavour to rebuild it, apologise through action or show you’re deserving of effort, feelings of worthlessness are not only likely but often inevitable. I concur.

In all honesty, it hurts like a stake through the heart to know I wasn’t worth any proactive effort. From an emotional viewpoint, it validates my fear that I am not worth loving, liking, appreciating, valuing nor respecting. That really stings and always will.

That said, I am ready to move forward. Let The Forgiven One be happy. He is in love, whether he admits it or not, and love is a privilege to be celebrated. I cannot resent his girlfriend for wanting to share her happiness with the world. She is in love; content and secure in the joy of being made to feel wanted, appreciated, valued and cherished. She is enjoying her life – and so is The Forgiven One. It is heartwarming to see that neither cares that she is an overweight woman posting bikini shots, or if he looks a bit short or stocky in comparison – physical flaws are somehow invisible when you’re in love. It’s such a special, unparalleled blessing to see only the beauty in one another and the world around you. The judgements of others do not matter when you’re united in love and content with how you are treated by your partner. I don’t know how that feels but I know I would be the same in their shoes – unashamedly happy.

I just wish I knew why I was so cruelly deceived and used. Why am I so worthless? What is it about my being that would make someone think that sleeping with me for five years while pretending to like me as a friend and person is treatment that I somehow deserve and should accept? What emotions did this man ever feel for me, if any? Surely he always hated me to be able to behave so terribly? Was he ever genuine? I will never know unless he finds the courage to be honest and explain his true feelings. If I could ask him one question for closure, it would be to find out why he believes it all went so wrong and we ended up here: estranged and unable to ever be friends. Would he blame my worthlessness? Would he acknowledge his own deceit? I would give almost anything to better understand his destructive behaviour.

I have made so many excuses for the past – taking all the blame when speaking to The Forgiven One about our history. I spent almost two years apologising for being worthless and, therefore, at fault. And he took my apologies and never once said: “you didn’t deserve what I did” or “I shouldn’t have lied” or “you deserved better”.

Instead, he kept a dossier of evidence to use against me: a catalogue of evidence that he claims depicts harrassment. It brings tears to my eyes to know that another human being has documented the demise of my mental health with such callousness and responded to what was obviously a severe breakdown caused by their own actions with a threat to reveal it to the authorities and, in turn, the world. At each point where I most needed help – the moments when I desperately needed intervention, love, support and honesty – I was being judged, vilified, ridiculed, gossiped about and condemned. My most personal, harrowing experiences have been dissected and ridiculed: my depression, my suicide attempts, my infertility, my health, my misery, and my pain.

I still have nightmares every night following the cruelty of The Forgiven One. My hair has thinned and greyed, and I have piled on 32 pounds during my grief. I tried to kill myself and still have suicidal thoughts. I have a strained relationship with my family and I have lost almost all my friends. I suffer regular anxiety attacks and O.C.D. is my primary coping mechanism.

I spent much of the past two years in prolonged unemployment because I couldn’t face the world without collapsing into tears and my depression has, on occasion, threatened the lives of my immediate family. I can’t have sex or a romantic relationship as the thought of being used again churns my stomach, and I also have trust issues others describe as “paranoia”. The hospital, doctors, my therapist and family all independently diagnosed “depression” and I have no self-esteem left.

In contrast, during the same time frame, The Forgiven One has made his relationship with his girlfriend official, paraded their joy on social media, has regular sex, enjoys numerous holidays abroad each year, is close to his family, keeps in touch with old friends, launched new websites and businesses, made new friends across the globe and regularly attends social events.

He has also said our situation has given him depression – for which I cried and wanted to die because I felt so sad, scared and guilty. You cannot imagine how frightened I was that he would die and it would be all my fault for coming into his life and being so worthless.

I accept defeat. I am a stupid, silly, worthless old fool. But at least I am honest; honest enough to admit, at last, that The Forgiven One played me like a banjo and I let him. It is all my fault. I am to blame because a true friend would have tried to help and save me, not stab me in the back and then leave me to die as The Forgiven One did. I should have had more worth but I failed because I lacked any value. If only he had told me; I wouldn’t have wasted the most important years of my life believing I was equal to others.

Still, I wish him no ill will and hope he has every success in the future. Good luck to him. I suspect he doesn’t need my well wishes; he’s happy and so is his life. He is blessed beyond measure and I pray he appreciates it because some of us have nothing. Not even happy memories on which to cling. I used to love him so much, no matter what he did or how low and ugly he would make me feel, yet now I don’t feel there is anything left. There is no thread of friendship remaining for which I can pray to protect – we are strangers and it seems we always were. This man didn’t once fight for me; not for my friendship, my love, my health and not even my life. He left me to die. I wouldn’t leave an animal to die yet he left me to perish without a second thought. He left me to die.

He left me to die.

That’s the truth. That’s why I accept defeat and that’s why I know I will always be worthless … only now I feel that it doesn’t matter. Being worthless is like being a fat girl in a bikini: beautiful and praiseworthy if you spend your time with those who love you for who you are and not for what you can give them. I will never allow myself to be used again, even if that means I have to die alone.

Things Back Into Perspective

17 Aug

Things have settled back into perspective this afternoon. I know that my grief and anger are toxic and their poison could kill me if I do not take radical action. I am too lucky in life to keeping falling so low: events in the rest of the world – Iraq, Syria, Israel and Palestine – are far worse than any I will ever experience, and it is time that I started reflecting on my blessings and strengths instead of my worthlessness.

Morning Has Broken

17 Aug

Morning has broken and I am exhausted following a combined attack of insomnia and nightmares. I am used to feeling exhausted and grief-stricken so today will be much like any other. That fills my heart with great sorrow for every day is tinged with undiluted misery and loneliness.

I know I am blessed with the strength to bear these shackles – I have lived with their weight long enough to have forgotten the luxuries of freedom, friendships and love.

I have to find the good in the day – no matter how small – and embrace its fleeting touch. As hopeless as my future may seem, it was I who made the choice to live it, and thus I am accountable for my experiences. That includes the good and the bad, the rough and the smooth. I chose life over death … I am to blame.

Choices

16 Aug

I try with all my might to move beyond the confines of my past and persevere to carve a place in the present. I do this hoping it shall one day make the concept of my continued existence in an enforced future somehow more appealing.

Overall, I would say my attempts to survive have been better of late but days such as this do much to destroy my efforts. There was a point during this evening when I lost my temper with my parents – yes, the two elderly individuals about which I frequently blog, who are both seriously ill and frail. They did little to deserve this explosion but were unfortunate enough to be caught within the emotional crossfire of my grief and anger.

Missiles of concentrated sorrow, rage and paranoia had been in flight throughout my body for much of the afternoon and their time of collision coincided with the exact moment my parents elected to ask a banal, trivial question. I was overcome with grief at their thoughtlessness, feeling frustration towards their ignorance of my inner turmoil. As they formed words to ask a simple question, I had the sensation that my chest was being crushed and my heart were being stabbed repeatedly. I couldn’t breathe and I was in acute pain, yet I managed to open my lungs to scream at my poor, bewildered parents.

They couldn’t possibly have known that I was fighting and dying at the same time, detonating from within to shower all in my wake with the burning debris of my decimated soul. Verbal flames spewed forth to rain upon my parents like grenades and what should have been a pleasant evening was soon engulfed by an uncontrollable inferno.

The trigger for this fiery fallout was a harrowing reminder of the evil actions of the lover-turned-backstabber who deliberately set out to destroy my life for sport. I am confronted daily by debilitating reminders of his actions – mental landmines which are seemingly trip-wired to detonate during any attempt to bond with or trust other people, including my own family.

I call this assassin of my happiness “The Forgiven One”, having struggled against hatred towards his being for so long to finally disregard his cruelty, but today I realised that I do not forgive and nor do I forget. I merely endure and suffer the things I cannot change.

One insecure, short, little man’s cruel actions have dissolved the love and trust I once placed in others, breaking my bonds with loved ones and shattering my self-worth. This man deemed my being as worthless and expendable: stigmas which are as burdening as the effort to live through each day without taking my own life. The Forgiven One is a terrible human being and I realise that I do not like his narcissistic and selfish personality. I loved this man for so long: he still has the power to fill my being with dread, causing anxiety attacks and far worse. Yet, I do not like him as a person; he is undeniably cruel, heartless, insecure and evil. He genuinely deserves to feel the consequences of the nasty actions he so readily inflicted upon myself: worthlessness, depression, anxiety, social alienation, detatchment, insomnia, nightmares and suicidal thoughts. Yet, I wish these horrors upon none – not even upon the man who inflicted them without mercy upon my own being.

My experience – both past and present – is diabolical. I wish it upon no other because it is unbearable. Every moment of life is clouded by grief and self-loathing. It is a terrible existence and I would be better off dead. It pains me to know that taking my own life would be as selfish a deed as any committed by The (Un)Forgiven One, despite my unyielding yearning for Death. I cannot become my enemy: cruel, self-centred and evil.

I am supposed to go for Cancer tests and to accept treatment should I be a carrier of an inherited gene which could trigger the disease. I have no idea if this gene is present in either of my parents, nor wider family, but I have decided to decline any preventative treatment should I be a carrier. I do not wish to prolong my worthless life because I cannot live with having to turn the other cheek. I am self-destructing rather than destroying the man responsible for my anger and anxiety and, as noble and Christian as that choice may be, it is agony. I would prefer to die than continue to protect an evil human whilst I inflict pain upon my innocent family. The choices we make are supposed to define us, so why does turning the other cheek create an anxious, suicidal wreck rather than a godess of compassion, love and empathy?

I fear I have been tormented for too long and my soul has extinguished all its lives. Today’s inner turmoil led to an explosion which signified the end of something. What ended? My relationship with my parents? Almost. My health? Shot to pieces. My sanity? Non-existent. My love and compassion? Both dearly departed. What is left? A hollowed out shell of grief. I wanted to carve my place in the present to force a desire for the future. Instead, the ongoing impact of The Forgiven One’s cruelty has led to the carving of my headstone.

I do not want this life. I do not want to share a world with people like The Forgiven One and his like-minded peers. I would much rather die. I would definitely much rather die than suffer another emotionally damaging day such as this. If life is about choices, I choose eternal peace.

Perhaps I shall feel differently in the morning – I don’t know. I only pray that tomorrow is a better day and my emotions are too injured from today’s fallout to once again go to war with one another.

I Feel So Lonely It Hurts

16 Aug

I feel so lonely it actually hurts. I am so isolated from other people and I have no way of reconnecting with a world in which I do not belong.

I have endeavoured to take strides towards integration, more so for the sake of my parents than for myself, but I do not feel a sense of belonging or purpose. I know I can fake it and hide my worthlessness from others but what is the point?

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