It is strange that a life can be shattered and not at the same time. It is chronic pain and yet it is not. Aching agony in my heart. In my chest. In my empty cavity of a chest. I don't know what to say or do. I do and say what I must. I barely show up. I barely try. I don't try. I try and then I stop trying. I say (THINK) I will meditate and do yoga and I do nothing. I sit in bed and I play solitaire and jigsaw puzzles and I KNOW it is making the problem worse. Making the pain worse. But I blame fate and not myself. I blame God and not my choices. I don't believe in God. I don't believe God wants this for me. Not because I'm special, but because no one should have this. This is hell. This is hell. This is hell. It burns. It is a constant burn, and I cannot stop it. Or will not, based on the lack of yoga and meditation.
My anger and resentment toward Paul is sticking to me like tar. Sherpa. I know it hurts only me. I mourn my pregnancy. I wanted love and support and I was destroyed. But I was already destroyed. I want to let go, and sometimes I can. But not now. Now I want to die. I don't want to kill him, but I want to kill me. And I feel like a failure that I can't.
The last time I held the gun to my head I thought of all the pain burning inside of me, and I knew if I pulled the trigger the pain would spread to my parents and my husband and my son. So I decided to keep the pain inside. But it burns. And it's heavy. And it's awful. I don't want to carry it around anymore. I want it to go away.
I remember. I remember a time when it wasn't there. For a long time this pain wasn't there. And it will abate. It will. It is all that I have to hold onto now.
I feel the therapists and the psychiatrists have betrayed me. Not because they don't want to help, but because they cannot. And the sad part is they don't know it.
I'm off of their poisons. They turn me into a zombie or a monster and I know that this is part of the burning. But I have to fix my brain myself. The external things aren't helping. They are perpetuating an imbalance. They DON'T KNOW. How is this possible? How do I live in the dark ages of this medicine? I'm so angry and sad at them.
I'm allowed to be angry and sad. I'm allowed to be fat. I'm allowed to be cranky and mean. I'm allowed to be however I am. I don't have to be angry and sad and fat and cranky and mean, but I can be when I am.
I feel like all the pain in the world lives in me now. I don't want it. Maybe I need a shield. Or a light to burn it away. I don't want this. I don't believe in this. I don't believe in anything. Nothing is real. When I die nothing will be real.
Life is already over. It doesn't matter. My heart hurts. My shoulders and neck hurts. My sinuses are full of pain and sorrow.
Sorrow and pain and burning consume me. Expectations have destroyed me completely. Expectations are necessary and yet destructive. No more TV. No more books. No more conflict. No more. I will live now. I don't believe me. I wouldn't believe me in a thousand years I am a lying liar. I am not to be trusted. My brain is broken. My heart is broken. My body is weak. My will is non-existent. God is cruel beyond belief. How could I bring another life into this cursed world?
Money is not the answer.
TV is not the answer.
Books are not the answer.
Mindfulness is part of the answer.
Daydreaming is part too.
Family and friends are part of the answer. Or so they say.
Acceptance is part of the answer.
Patience and time. These are the answer. Patience.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Are we there yet? 2 years and counting.
I want to die. Please let me die. I pray for a brain aneurism. Or any kind, really. A heart defect. An errant bullet. Something quick and painless as possible. I want to die. Please God let me die. Please. I know this will go away, but I know it will come back. I'm not strong enough for this. The last few times have left me crippled and ruined, and I give up. You win. Take me and send me to oblivion, but take me. Please. I have only things to ruin if I stay, I'm sure of it.
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