3 March 2016
I have seriously thought about therapy the last few days. I feel like I am a burden to you and that you will be better off without me in your life. It’s my fault I have not gotten better. I should be able to fix myself but for whatever reason, I am unable to. You have been a good listener, but I can tell you are tired of hearing me talk these days. I probably talk about the same things and it annoys you.
I know I am a boring person. I live in a bubble that is surrounded by trauma every where I turn, whether it be due to external circumstances (e.g., my father) or internal ones (e.g., my pain). I joined a PTSD chat the other night. I didn’t talk much, just observed what the conversation was about. One day I hope to tell my story, in pieces, but I am scared it will be too triggering. I went off the other day on Twitter with CES stuff because of pain. I didn’t talk about my bowels or bladder, just that pain had controlled me and always gives me anxiety when it reaches a certain notch. It’s not all the time I have anxiety due to pain. But I am always on edge because I don’t know if pain is going to cause it or not, so I am anxious about being anxious.
I have been struggling with the need for therapy the past week. Our relationship has been different than the other relationships that I have had, in regards to therapy. One, it has lasted longer than the others and two, I never really thought about leaving even though I have said I wanted to. When we had this discussion a few months ago, it really terrified me to think I was really going to lose you. Since then, our relationship has changed. And I quite don’t know if it is for better or for worse.
You talk about your anxiety of dealing with me sometimes gets in the way of our talk. Maybe it is for the better that I leave you. I hate causing you pain.
My psych hasn’t returned the email about setting up an appointment. I am in an “I don’t care mood” so will not pursue her. I really don’t care. I am just a burden to her as well. I am just too “weak” right now to deal. I feel I am a failure and she is tired of my bullshit, too. I have read the emails that I wrote. And who cares that I have lost my appetite and a few pounds. No one cares. It isn’t like I am skinny and need the pounds. It’s not like me to have physical symptoms of depression. I am waiting for the heartache to set in and finish me off. I thought about hanging myself tonight. I was feeling that bad. But I don’t have a beam to do it, least not in my room. I just want to be dead. It’s good I don’t own a pistol. I would be dead three times over already. I just have my pills. Maybe a 60 day dose of my blood pressure pill will do the job.
I know talking about killing myself sets you into anxious mode. I am sorry. It’s just the way that I feel.