Last night I ended up drinking a lot more than anticipated.
Now that I’m not on any type of medication - pill form, denial, etc. - I find myself actually wanting to get help, in some form or another. I spent the greater deal of last night talking to my best friends about what’s going on with me. I can’t really put it to words any better, to make them understand exactly what I’m feeling and why I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s hard telling someone you love, who thinks you’re perfectly imperfect, that you can’t find the strength to be here anymore even if it’s just for them. All I ever do is think of everyone else though; everything I do, every move I make and action I play out is so specifically engineered towards making everyone else happy. I honestly don’t remember what makes me happy anymore. I get small glimpses of things every now and again: driving around, singing, exploring, traveling. But to find peace?
That would be a miracle in and of itself.
I can’t seem to figure out how to get help, or ask for help, or let people help me. I’m so worried about being a burden to people that I just go on acting like I’m completely fine and then suddenly I snap and I beat myself, cut myself, try and overdose only to end up throwing up and feeling like death warmed over the entire next day (that’s right, don’t try and overdose on 360mg of Cymbalta - doesn’t do anything more than make you sick and make the side effects super intense). If I really wanted to kill myself, I’m sure I easily could. But there’s a fine like between wanting to kill yourself and actually feeling it, with every fiber of your being.
I’ll tell you one thing: it feels amazing to just cry.
Maybe that’s part of my problem is that I haven’t grieved for the part of me I lost in the rape. I haven’t processed what actually happened because I’ve been so busy dealing with everything else and everybody else. Well no, that’s an excuse; I haven’t wanted to deal with anything that I have going on, and just pushed it away. I’m an excellent pretender. I can put on my makeup, do my hair, and put a smile on my face because I know that’s what is expected of me, and the type of girl I’ve been raised to become.
I feel bad though - I don’t want people to have to deal with me.
So much of that is part of my problem, as I said before. I just feel like everyone else is already dealing with so much already that I don’t want to burden them with what seemingly trivial issues I’m dealing with. I know I sound like every other teenaged girl who thinks her life sucks and just wants to be selfish and take that life away before it’s the right time. Doesn’t anyone stop and ask why they feel that way, or why they want to end their lives? No. They just assume they’re being selfish and angsty. The pressures society inflicts upon young women these days to be perfect - to have the perfect hair, job, education, weight, skin, material objects, mate - are so overwelmingly large. It’s no wonder when one thing falls away from them, it feels like the end of the world. I mean, look at me: I’m easily slipping back into anorexia, I’m cutting again, I’m seriously contemplating suicide because I can’t figure out how to achieve perfection. I want to be perfect for everyone, I want to make everyone happy and when that fails I become unhinged.
I want so badly to grieve, to be put first, to ululate until I feel whole again. But, in doing all this, I want someone to be here for me and help me through the process. I know no one can really fix me, that I have to do the fixing but is it so wrong to want help in the process. I just have this overwelming feeling of being a burden to the people around me. Everyone is dealing with something, their own pieces of hell that follow them around on a daily basis and I… I don’t want to add to what they’re dealing with. I just try and be strong and deal with everything on my own, but I just feel used up. It’s like the songs I listen to when I’m writing - I have them on repeat until I’ve squeezed every last ounce of emotion out of them.
I feel like I’m floundering.
My sense of direction is completely screwed up and I really have no drive to become anything more than what I am right now. I am comfortably numb with the status quo of my life - eat, sleep, cook, clean, take care of the house, do a little drawing, do a little writing. Oh sure, I go to class in there and now I’m going to work but, honestly? It doesn’t do anything for me anymore. I find little to no happiness in my life… my life lacks pure joy and peace. I know I could easily find these things, that they’re sitting right there in front of me but it’s like I’m stuck in this bell jar and can see everything that I want, the happiness that could so easily be mine… but I can’t seem to get there.
I need help, I know I need help… But I have no idea where to even begin.