Today I saw Brandon. I was very nervous because of the (honest) email I sent him.
Of course when I got there and most of the time I was all closed up. But he still saw me, knew how I was doing and it touched me and made me so incredibly sad at the same time.
He described to be (on a scale from 0 to 10) that when you’re either on 0 or 10 you can’t live.. It’s either too cold (0) or too hot (10).
He said I’m probably on 0,5. Barely living. And it’s very ‘normal’ to feel dead at this point.
I don’t even know how to describe the talk we had. It was intense and heaviness of it all, the realisation, Brandon actually mentioning I’m barely alive (or dying, you name it) made me even cry more.
I’m glad he cares. He is one of the very few.
It’s weird to be at this critical stage now that I’m doing so much with my life (going out, study plans etc).
He wanted to schedule an appointment for monday. Another thing that shows his care and concern. It’s not like him to want to see me twice a week.
Today I did it. I emailed Brandon. I’m kinda afraid of his reaction. I was very honest. I’m afraid too honest. But a part of me is thinking, how can I be too honest with my therapist? He knows me better than anyone else.
I feel so torn between two parts of me.
The part of me that is real angry and feels like destroying everything “Madness is the gift that has been given to me”
& the part that just desperately wants to stop the pain but doesn’t know how “Don’t tear me down for all I need, make my heart a better place, give me something I can believe”
Actually they both mean the same. Anger does cover up pain. The basic question in my email to Brandon was; how can I stop/survive/handle this pain?
I couldn’t find a reason to stay among the living, so I searched for it among the dead.
Today I visited a cemetery. For multiple reasons.
– I wanted to (as stated above) look for a reason to stay.
– I wanted to say I’m sorry to them, for being ungrateful with my life while (probably) most of them didn’t want to die.
– I was looking for a safe place. A place where it’s actually okay to cry.
I think it did me well to go. I saw a lot of touching things, made me cry, cry for them, the people around them. The hurt they must have been feeling or maybe still are feeling.
I sat there on a bench and did some stuff that was hard for me to do, but it felt easier there.
Though it brought me a lot. On my way home, my muscles still were burning in pain. This rock was still smothering my lungs. I still felt this agonizing pain inside. I could barely walk normal. Or even hold my tears.
I’m pretty sure I’ll go back, I just don’t know when yet.
I just can’t bring myself up to type the name.
I had an interesting talk with Brandon today.
A lot of anger came out. I seem full of anger and revenge and yet full of pain and hurt. Of of course those two go hand in hand, but since when at the same time? I asked him if I was allowed to email him. He is actually the only person I can spill my guts to, though I know he prefers not, he agreed.
Dissociation is torturing me. Although I must be glad it’s just that instead of a memory/flashback.
Hurry back, cause you don’t know what it means to me.
It burns so bad. Inside me. It hurts like hell. It’s like my muscles are on fire.
I can’t believe it’s true, I keep looking for you.
I check my phone and wait to hear from you.
In the crowded room
The joker is so cruel.
And now I’ll never know,
If all I’ve been told
Is just a lie so bold,
I thought we would grow old.
Mirrors in the smoke
Left me here to choke
Where is my salvation?
I was 3 years old
And still you saw
The biggest evil grew in me
And you had to declaw
A child so young
But yet you destroy
Beat it to the ground
Like an annoying plastic toy
People saw evil in me
When life had barely begun
And its the kind of evil
That can’t be undone
This rock keeps burning
Through my chest
Smothering my lungs
Though I did try my best
Evil so strong
Does fighting even make sense?
I know he disagrees
CPTSD was the expense