Tormented

Tormented. That’s the word that my psychologist used to describe me on Friday.

I was tormented to the extent that I had my eyes closed, rocking back and forth in silence, rubbing several layers of skin off of my forehead as she watched for the majority of the session. What was tormenting me was the urgency with which I feel I have to decide whether I survive beyond the next few weeks and the many intricate layers of decisions involved in that, including the various impacts of me either living or dying by my own hand. This was 99% considering the welfare of others, and in fact I spent a good portion of that time chanting that I didn’t want to die but had no choice for the good of others.

At that point I was tormented. Since, I don’t know how you would describe me. Having had my worst fears confirmed (that I am truly an awful human being, that I am having a negative impact on even the professionals in my life, that it is unfair and wrong to share these thoughts of ending my life that I am so ashamed and scared of is), I have been flipping between inconsolable sobbing and dead in all but body; not functioning, not really existing in anything but grief and panic. All I want is to make things right but I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to turn. I’m scared. I’m lost. My self hatred increases in swathes. Am I wrong? Is this my fault? Does it matter?

The scenario that I never wanted to experience again has started to repeat itself. I can’t go through that again. And all at the time when I was most likely to decide not to go through anything again. I am not strong enough. I am not brave enough. It feels like the last spark in me has been extinguished.

Nothing is worth this pain. I don’t know why this hurts so much, I don’t know why emotions cause such pain in me, I don’t know why my insides have been ripped raw, I don’t know why I can’t just cope – all I know is that life for me is torture and that it’s more than I can bear.

Time is ticking away. Pressure is increasing.

I’m desperate for help but I think that desperation may be unanswered, or unanswerable. My worst fears have come to life again. Does their life come at the price of my own?

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