I have been struggling tremendously lately, with many things. I still have 3x a week physical therapy, which means more people touching me, I now have an MRI for my knee on Friday and have opted to take a Valium (or two) and be vulnerable rather than panic from being in the machine, and work is picking up pace at the same time I’m missing at least 6 hours of work a week for PT.
The therapy group that my T has wanted me to join for a long time started up last week. It’s exclusively for sexual assault and abuse survivors. There are three other women and then two co-therapists, one of whom is in training. I think she’s trying too hard to talk in that soft, soothing therapist voice, because I was secretly wishing she’d stop the act and talk like a normal person. It’s not the voice that makes a good therapist, it’s who the therapist is as a person. The group is terrifying, and I was triggered just by being there. The other women seemed to be OK, so of course I left feeling so much more messed up and worried that I’m too sensitive to be in the group. The next time we meet, I’m considering talking to the therapists afterward and just mentioning that I’m finding myself easily triggered in the group. Although I’m not sure what good that will do.
With all of this going on, I’ve had a lot of emotions come up. And I’ve had a lot of times where I’m completely numb. Many nights, including last night, I’ve longed so deeply to just end it all. The scariest moments are when that desire comes on suddenly and very strong and turns into an impulse that is hard to resist. I feel like I’m stepping closer and closer to the edge. I have started to feel more dangerous to myself, too, because the main reason why I haven’t done it already is because of my mother, but I can feel myself losing the strength to care.
My T and I have a contract about this, too. She asked me to reaffirm the contract last week, because she’s out-of-town this week. So now the thing keeping me from doing it is to not hurt T. A couple of weeks ago when I first mentioned that I was feeling suicidal, she asked if I had any concept as to how it makes her feel when I say that. I said no, so she said that it makes her want to cry. And she said that she wanted to tell me that not so that I can take care of her, but so that I can know that someone gives a shit whether I live or die. So if that’s really true, if she really does care, then I guess it would hurt her, and I wouldn’t want that.
Reading what I wrote above, about T wanting to cry, brought up this question of why? It’s still just so inconceivable that she could care that much. Maybe I sound stupid saying that, but it’s true.
Regardless of everything I’ve written, I’ve still felt so trapped because it’s been so hard for me to find the words to explain what is going on in my head and body. Driving to work this morning, I was listening to songs on my iPhone. There’s a particular Christian song that I’ve always liked and have appreciated the lyrics, but this morning, they seemed to speak to me even more. They’re the words that I can’t find.
When I’m Alone – Nevertheless
It’s been years in the making
In my skin I am shaking from the cold
I am tired from the taking
And my heart it won’t stop breaking and I know…
Moving forward can’t be this hard
I’m just trying to find out
Who I am on my own
I had you right beside me
But now you’re gone and I know
That when the room clears I’m still here
Who am I when I’m alone?
They say time is a healer
But it’s more like a concealer for a scar
‘Cause it never really leaves us
But it can always find us where we are, we are
Who thought it could ever be so hard?