07 Apr 2017 - I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
Evening, whomever may read this message into the void.
Day 43 on Lexapro.
Mood: ~4.5
Today was...a day. It started off well enough, going to class, getting work done, going to class. I ignored and/or suppressed the growing unease of having to formally talk to Favorite Person - I didn't want to have this discussion, and there was no weasling out of it, or hoping that she'd forget, or just not bring it up.
We went to Chili's beforehand, because food is good. What we got is unimportant, though I much enjoyed just talking.
The mutually agreed upon location was the Japanese garden on campus, as it's a fairly quiet place and is conducive to discussion. We fed the koi and goldfish first, mostly to get rid of some stale fish food that I've had for a while. The greedy buggers enjoyed it, though I didn't see either of my two favorites - a giant koi I've named Whale, and another equally giant koi that I haven't given a name to.
I...I'm still trying to process what was talked about. I, as usual, didn't have much to say; it ended up being a case of her talking, me listening, and me trying my hardest (and, of course, failing) to come up with something to say. Something that wasn't a variation of I feel guilty about this or I don't deserve that or I'm sorry. I tried, I sincerely did, but beneath the thick haze of guilt, there was...nothing. An emptiness, a void. A dark place from which no words come. I kept trying, feeling worse and worse about not having any response.
Listening to her talk about the way things are, and have been, the way that her concern for me prevents her at times from fully enjoying herself, the way my eating patterns remind her of the stories her formerly anorexic mother has told, the way she sees me shooting myself down even when I'm seeming to make some progress...It made me realize that I'm a lot worse than I ever thought I was. Moments of clarity hurt in that way, seeing things as they well and truly are.
It was a hard, piercing realization of just how much I've been taking. And my immediate reaction was more guilt. Every fiber of my being felt guilty, about everything that I've done and the toll I've taken and the undue stress I've put on her. That guilt was followed by an intense I don't deserve that I couldn't silence. I wanted to have something to say besides that, but there was nothing. There's always nothing.
It took me a long time to break through my fear and make contact.
Favorite Person, I know that you'll read this at some point, and I just want to speak directly to you, the words that I can express with my pen but not my voice. I still don't feel that I deserve your friendship, and I still believe that the greatest kindness I could ever give you is cutting myself off. I don't deserve to keep taking and taking and taking from you, when I have the barest minimum to give in return. I know that it seems like I don't fight my demons at all, but trust me, please, I'm fighting as hard as I can. Every day that I'm not cutting or bruising or dehydrating myself, I'm fighting. I'm trying, I swear I am. I don't make a lot of progress, but I am trying. I'm sorry that your concern for me has proven to be such a detriment to you, and I wish above all else that things weren't this way. I hate knowing that I make you feel guilty about things, because guilt is a hurt and the last thing that I want to do ever is be a source of hurt for you. I don't know how I'm going to move forward, because you're right, I do use you as a crutch, because I know that I can look to you for support when I can't support myself, and that's not fair. That's not a role that you should have forced on you, but I'm still too broken, too unstable, to not need to be held up from time to time. I just...I wish that I could be the friend you deserve to have, the friend I can't ever be.
A storm at sea
The bow cracked, and I was capsizing
And I sunk below
Where I swore I would never go
07 Apr 2017
Day 43 on Lexapro.
Mood: ~4.5
Today was...a day. It started off well enough, going to class, getting work done, going to class. I ignored and/or suppressed the growing unease of having to formally talk to Favorite Person - I didn't want to have this discussion, and there was no weasling out of it, or hoping that she'd forget, or just not bring it up.
We went to Chili's beforehand, because food is good. What we got is unimportant, though I much enjoyed just talking.
The mutually agreed upon location was the Japanese garden on campus, as it's a fairly quiet place and is conducive to discussion. We fed the koi and goldfish first, mostly to get rid of some stale fish food that I've had for a while. The greedy buggers enjoyed it, though I didn't see either of my two favorites - a giant koi I've named Whale, and another equally giant koi that I haven't given a name to.
I...I'm still trying to process what was talked about. I, as usual, didn't have much to say; it ended up being a case of her talking, me listening, and me trying my hardest (and, of course, failing) to come up with something to say. Something that wasn't a variation of I feel guilty about this or I don't deserve that or I'm sorry. I tried, I sincerely did, but beneath the thick haze of guilt, there was...nothing. An emptiness, a void. A dark place from which no words come. I kept trying, feeling worse and worse about not having any response.
Listening to her talk about the way things are, and have been, the way that her concern for me prevents her at times from fully enjoying herself, the way my eating patterns remind her of the stories her formerly anorexic mother has told, the way she sees me shooting myself down even when I'm seeming to make some progress...It made me realize that I'm a lot worse than I ever thought I was. Moments of clarity hurt in that way, seeing things as they well and truly are.
It was a hard, piercing realization of just how much I've been taking. And my immediate reaction was more guilt. Every fiber of my being felt guilty, about everything that I've done and the toll I've taken and the undue stress I've put on her. That guilt was followed by an intense I don't deserve that I couldn't silence. I wanted to have something to say besides that, but there was nothing. There's always nothing.
It took me a long time to break through my fear and make contact.
Favorite Person, I know that you'll read this at some point, and I just want to speak directly to you, the words that I can express with my pen but not my voice. I still don't feel that I deserve your friendship, and I still believe that the greatest kindness I could ever give you is cutting myself off. I don't deserve to keep taking and taking and taking from you, when I have the barest minimum to give in return. I know that it seems like I don't fight my demons at all, but trust me, please, I'm fighting as hard as I can. Every day that I'm not cutting or bruising or dehydrating myself, I'm fighting. I'm trying, I swear I am. I don't make a lot of progress, but I am trying. I'm sorry that your concern for me has proven to be such a detriment to you, and I wish above all else that things weren't this way. I hate knowing that I make you feel guilty about things, because guilt is a hurt and the last thing that I want to do ever is be a source of hurt for you. I don't know how I'm going to move forward, because you're right, I do use you as a crutch, because I know that I can look to you for support when I can't support myself, and that's not fair. That's not a role that you should have forced on you, but I'm still too broken, too unstable, to not need to be held up from time to time. I just...I wish that I could be the friend you deserve to have, the friend I can't ever be.
A storm at sea
The bow cracked, and I was capsizing
And I sunk below
Where I swore I would never go
07 Apr 2017
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