Trigger Warning: Self Harm
I am struggling today. I was driving home from work, after being completely dressed down- feeling demoralized, worthless and stupid. Reminding myself that I can’t cry now. I have to pick up my kid in a half an hour and I don’t want him to know how bad I feel. But this writhing cannon ball of pain, lodged in my throat was burning. The thought of cutting flashed to the forefront. I visualized myself in the bathtub, my inner thigh- calculated how many hours till after bedtime. I felt deeply relieved to imagine it. Then I thought how sick I was for seeing that as a solution and how there are stable grown fucking adults out there, living life that would never and have never had that train of thought. Then I feel more pathetic and unworthy. If I didn’t have my kid to love and care for, I don’t think I’d be here. I don’t feel like I belong, I feel so out of place and out of step with the world. Im alone and so tired.
I need a hug, badly, I think. My family was never very affectionate, I have always indirectly tried to fill that cup of closeness. My mom hated men but but would still tell me to stay pretty so they’ll want you, be quiet and obedient like a good Catholic girl should. That’s the way. She’d confide in and talk to me like an adult until what was left of my child-self was smothered out. My grandmother told me to never ever love a man more than he loves you, because he will use that and break you. She hated men as much as my mother. My older sister taught me how to despise and abuse my body with pills, supplements and over-exercising to keep it in shape- because what’s more important than that as a female? So, ladies- where has all of that sage advice gotten me? I’m scared to fall fully in love. I obsess over food, restrict and binge- then restrict again. I weigh myself everyday, I panic if my jeans are feeling tight. I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I pick men who are unavailable in one way or another. I want the love and affection, safety and security but I don’t know how to accept it.
The self harm part I can’t attribute to anyone but myself- the stash of razor blades, rubbing alcohol, bandaids and scar cream- it’s all me. I picked that up somewhere along the way. Probably some innocuous injury that captivated my attention just long enough, distracting me from the outside, pulling me back into my body- it somehow felt right, a relief. I worry about passing this madness down, I worry about being found out. I go to therapy and do all the things people with CPTSD need to do. But this self-hating angry, sad thing lives inside me, consuming my insides, kills any confidence. It yearns for all of these things that are just so far out of my reach. I’ve been in love, I think and accepted being hurt, apologetically or unapologetically. Sex fixes it- for a little while. Filling that void- feeding that need for affection or offering some level of fulfillment. Sometimes I’m there, sometimes I’m disassociating completely.
I have often wondered what true and regular intimacy feels like- making love, being held every night, feeling safe, being touched and kissed gently, with care and intent. I wish I knew how to find that. I wish I could be sure I would even know how to accept it. I must come off so cold to people, if they only really knew me- on the inside. They might come to know that I feel every word, I feel every look, I feel every touch- like lava. But I don’t know how to convey that. I don’t know how to find that middle ground, that softness while still being strong. I wish I knew that I had a person out there, just waiting for me to figure this puzzle out. Or maybe they are just as fucked as I am and we are both walking along this road completely lost and totally unaware. I’m so damn tired. Guess it’s time for that bath and then maybe some semblance of sleep before starting the show all over again tomorrow.