Even though everything I wrote last night and everything I keep to myself every day is directed at me, I’m now feeling horribly guilty because I think anyone who might read it will think it’s directed at them. More guilt over hurting other people yet again, basically. Which adds to the already overwhelming self-hatred already present and makes me feel even more selfish and isolated and undeserving of the slightest bit of empathy.
Does anyone even understand how fucking vicious this cycle is?! It really feels like nobody does. My internal monologue is all about how everyone must think the absolute worst of me even if they actually tell me they don’t. And it does not fucking help when I hear some of those same people say the most awful things about other people when those others aren’t around. I do it, too. Everyone does to some extent. Whether or not they admit it is something else entirely but face it, EVERYONE gossips. EVERYONE says unkind things sometimes. Why should I be any different? Why should I be the exception? Since I’m not there to actually hear what’s being said, I fill in the blanks myself and I do that with things I absolutely believe about myself and things that have been said to me in the past.
I know that I say and do things about and to others when I’m upset that I don’t really mean. But if someone says or does things to me? I don’t think for a second that they might not mean them. I think they mean them and I think they’re right. Part of that is because I assume that everyone else has their head on straight at all times and I’m the only basket case. I’m wrong, they’re right. I’m evil, they’re good. I can’t set aside emotions when necessary, they can.
I don’t think anyone else is even capable of anything bad. That’s just me. And somehow, I can’t explain things properly and as a result people get hurt. I sure as fuck can’t ask for help. Asking for help makes me even worse than I think I already am because I feel like I’m asking someone to waste their time on me.
What “help” would be possible anyway? I can make a bunch of appointments with my therapist, sure. Usually by the time I actually get there, though, I don’t feel as horrible and I can come off seeming perfectly fine. I did that last week. I also wore a long-sleeved shirt on purpose to hide the fading cuts. Why? He’s there to help me. That’s his job. But for some reason, I worry about him just seeing me as pathetic and not worth the time. So rather than admit I need help and tell him everything I should, I lie.
Also, I might be sent back to that hospital. I will not go there again. Ever. I refuse to go back. Sometimes, at random moments and without any actual smell of witch hazel to be found, I get that smell in my nose and get panicky. That entire place smelled that way. I. WILL. NOT. GO. BACK. I really think it would finish me off mentally, if not actually kill me.
So if I can’t ask for help from the therapist, who can I ask? Friends? The same people I’ve already been a burden to and keep hurting even though that’s the last thing I want to do? They have their own stuff going on that has nothing to do with me and I have no right to ask them for anything.
Part of my problem, I think, is that while I think people need to be more understanding and compassionate to others and that we should all help each other, I also think people need to own personal responsibility for everything they do. Victim-blaming is a really hard thing for me to deal with. On one hand, everyone makes choices that have consequences and they have to deal with those consequences. On the other, you never really know what factors contributed to the choices people make and you might have made the same choice in their situation. I can’t seem to “decide” on one or the other and if I try to explain myself to anyone, I inevitably feel like I’m ducking responsibility and making excuses. But I rarely question what’s behind someone else’s decisions, particularly if their decision had any impact on me. Remember, I’m wrong, they’re right. Everything IS my fault. If I do somehow think otherwise and say something to that effect and they disagree with me, that’s my fault too. How dare I question them? What kind of a person am I? So there’s more guilt.
I know I need help right now. I don’t know how or who to ask because I hate being a burden to people. And I will not allow myself to be taken to that hospital. That is not going to happen. I’m not sleeping well, I’m not eating well, I’m crying a lot, and the self-harm stuff has reached new levels. And I feel like nobody cares. I get why they don’t so I can’t be upset by that. Two seemingly insignificant things happened in recent memory that helped me more than I could have imagined so I let myself hope that things were on an upswing. The first was just someone ending up getting food the same time I did and sitting down in the same room at the same table with me to eat lunch. It was huge because things felt normal for the first time since that fucking party in August. More than with any of the others I hurt at that time, I thought I’d lost him the most. For that one day, things felt normal and I didn’t feel like killing myself or hurting myself. The second was a long conversation over the phone with one of the others I’d hurt. I had no idea how much I missed simply talking to her on the phone. Text and instant messaging isn’t the same and a lot gets lost in translation and just talking on the phone with her helped so much. I hoped she felt that way too.
But then things went back to the NEW normal. I’m so angry with myself that I let myself think everything was going to be okay. I lashed out at myself and wrote what I did and I’m sure anyone that read that is just as pissed at me as I am with myself. The Ferris Wheel of Guilt goes on. I want off. I want to be done with this.