I’m still feeling wretched. I have moments of feeling ok – like the first twenty seconds of being awake, until I remember what has happened – and then I fall apart again. I thought I was ok to go to work today, but as soon as I left the house the tears started again (actually they started in the shower, but you don’t need those details). It’s like in the early days when I didn’t understand how the world could go on; when everything in my world seems to be falling apart.
I can’t sleep. I’m not hungry. Everything just feels wrong and I feel broken. The food thing has me puzzled, as I’ve traditionally been captain of the binge eating club to squash any emotions. Why not this time, too?
I haven’t been able to see my therapist yet. She wasn’t able to see me last night as there were workmen at her office. I’m pleased she didn’t subject me to them or their noise, as tradesmen are a big trigger for me. I’ll see her tonight instead. (For those of you worried that I won’t go, I will. She shuffled another client around to see me, so I will go, if for no other reason that not to muck her about given she did this.)
I’m puzzled that you all seem to think this wasn’t my fault, that there’s not something inherently wrong with me. If there’s not, then why can’t I find anyone who wants to be with me? For some reason the universe has seen fit to deny me the things I most desire. I don’t understand why.
I never thought there was much hope, but my therapist thought there was. So I put my faith in her. Silly, silly me. That’s only led to heartache and pain, as I should have known it would.
There seems no point to anything anymore. I can’t see how I’ll get over this. I know I can’t go back to hiding in loneliness and isolation. But I also can’t go forward. That’s where my thoughts turn to the pills.