This song speaks for itself I guess. I returned home one evening a little too exhausted with it all.
Driven To It
With heartbeats rightly pressed against
What feels like the end.
Yes oh yes. Please God.
Do away with me.
Place me open full to the pain.
Their empty, patient wait for change
Has driven me insane.
This empty mind, this routine life has
Driven me insane.
Although it’s a small thing and only important to me, right now being able to spill my emotion in song is all that’s keeping the breath in me. It’s a little frightening for just how much I feel like my life is hanging onto it. Nothing is solved by it- I have no more worth than before a song is finished or after it’s heard (if ever heard at all), so it would make sense that when I run out of energy or the will to do this anymore, I will be gone or on the way.
I catch glimpses ever so often of how little my life makes sense to others. The job hopping over the years, full of hope one moment and drowning or begging to in the next…I can’t tolerate, just being at all. Lately it’s hurt having to tolerate with absolutely no response–even my own family couldn’t care enough to call or heaven forbid actually send me a letter of reply. Just one for the ten thousand I see now I’ve wasted my time sending. They must be laughing at the fool I am– one never worth the cost of a stamp.
This is so ugly of me. I can’t tolerate my own anger either, as I never could feel it was okay to have anger without also carrying all the guilt. I’m just losing every fight now it seems.
Well, choir practice starts again in another week. Although I might be closer to collapse, I’ll keep on until it happens.
I had a falling out with someone at work who I thought was being genuine with me. He actually sought me out. We exchanged emails, I shared some of my art and we chatted that way for a few weeks. I’d said I would try to make arrangements to meet one Sunday to catch a movie with him, but after a few days passed with no response to a question regarding this, I changed my mind. When he did finally respond, I said I wasn’t interested in going out anymore. Then he had the nerve to say it was an insult to change my mind as I did. After that I pretty much let loose on him in a cutting stream of lines and I said I didn’t want to be bothered by him any longer. My only regrets are wasting ink to print out art for him and actually giving one small original piece as a gift.
I gave too much in conversation too. In our emails, he would basically repeat everything I said, never adding depth with his own perspective. That should have been the sign I paid attention to and severed things quickly at the start of our “friendship”. I have no experience with dating, so at least all of this helps me establish what I care about or would prefer in a partner (as if I’ll ever have one).
Anyway, my world continues to get smaller. I’m alone everywhere I go in one way or another and it’s ruining whatever good is left in me I believe. When I’m desperate to reach out and try speaking up, all the air leaves me and I can’t follow through. Just for one person not to leave or automatically want something from me when I admit my loneliness here. I accept no one will understand why or know what to do. I just don’t want to be left stranded like this any longer…
This song is one I sang with my choir at our fall concert last month. We learned the songwriter wrote this out of her suffering from an ear infection…lol I loved it even more for that. And it fits for times lately in my life. I’m looking down at the lyrics in this video, btw.
I have had to work 5 hours overtime for the past two Saturdays and a third next week before the holidays. Just within the last two days I’ve noticed a marked difference in my overall mood. The negative thoughts are still there, just as they ever were with my personality, but no serious lows or desire to self-harm. The dosage increase I think is having its full effect now and just in time. Hardly two weeks ago I was set on starving myself out for how overextended I’ve felt.
This past Tuesday my mother attended a therapy session with me. I thought it would be a good chance for her to learn more about what I’m trying to manage. For my psychiatrist it may have been the richest chance he’ll ever get at learning my family history and my place among the rest, but for me – as I sat there listening to them go back and forth, could not have been worse. There were moments where I actually felt outside of their presence, like it wasn’t real but more of a dream like vision happening. I wanted to wake myself up from how absurd the whole scene felt.
And then the guilt set in. There I was, my mother’s last born, dragging her through the questioning and seeing me cry and expressing how helpless she felt toward what to do when I was in distress. But when my doctor outright said “Allyson has no anchor…” to keep me living. And mentioning the possibility that “Yes, she may die “by suicide, I was speechless and unexpectedly hurt. The whole thing seemed like he’d just confirmed his lack of faith in me being anything more than this empty, loveless waste of flesh. I felt I failed him, my mother and any regard for my own expectations lost between them. Wondering what the point was in denying my way to the end. My mother knows of the possibility now of what could happen, which until that point I’d tried to protect her from. If it happens, at least it won’t surprise.
I’m okay now, though never sure for how long. My concentration has sharpened, mornings don’t bear down on me as badly and I can safely calm myself down when necessary. So, rather than waiting until a bad day comes along to take advantage of how disturbed this whole episode in therapy left me, I’m going to schedule something sooner and talk to my doctor about this. I walked out feeling like he’s not understood me one moment for the years I’ve been in treatment. I can’t accept that.