I’ve decided that, given how unsafe I feel at the moment, I am going to try to write out what I’m feeling every day (or most days) while T is gone. The more this stays inside, the more it festers and the more I feel like I just can’t take it.
Today. I’m fantastically unproductive at work. I feel on the verge of tears, and I keep thinking how much I’d like to just lose all awareness of everything – of what I’m feeling, of what I need to do, of who I am. There is a knot in my chest that keeps tightening. Every minute here feels like torture.
I miss T. After more than 2 years of therapy with her, I have reached the point of attachment. It hurts that she’s gone, and I wish she were here just so I could feel that comfort and safety of being near her. At least when she’s in the same town, I know she’s close. It almost feels like I’ve lost all object permanence and I think that, just because she’s out-of-town, she’s never coming back. My mind knows that’s not true, but my heart feels like it is.
I know, theoretically, that these feelings are normal, but it still feels ridiculous for me to be this way as an adult. I should be able to manage being by myself and take care of my own emotions without relying on someone else to help me regulate. I should know better by now that suicide isn’t the way out. I should have more appreciation for my life. T told me this story last week about her father who was a Holocaust survivor. She said that when he was on his death-bed he said, “It’s still a beautiful world.” She went on to say how we all survive our own Holocausts. I know she meant well, but I now feel like I am a horribly ungrateful person who has absolutely nothing to be unhappy about, especially in the light of what others have suffered.
And yet, I’m still stuck in this place and I’m trying not to do anything bad to escape it.