So, I’m still alive! I really like to only write when the urge hits me, when I have a lightening bolt and feel really emotionally powered by a subject. That’s pretty much why there’s always so many gaps between posts.
I’m doing much better but unfortunately, I’m still waiting on support in regards to my mental health though. It’s all so confused and ill explained. From my understanding, I’m on two waiting lists. One to see a psychologist and the other for emotional skills group therapy (basically DBT?)
I’ve been floating around until these appointments come through, managing the best I can. I’ve rang Samaritans a few times but I never find them very helpful, though I do appreciate the work they do.
I’ve had a few bad moments.
The most recent followed a call with my nan last week:
“Today really fucking sucks.
Rang my nan, the only person of my family who speaks to me.. But of course, she only speaks to me on the promise I won’t bring up “what happened”. Oh, I’m fucking sorry your daughter is married to a piece of shit who can’t keep his hands to himself.
I’m sorry I reported him for what he did to me, how fucking dare I, right?
How dare I be fucked up that my family banded together and pushed me out, made me the black sheep for speaking out.
What the fuck is wrong with people? How can they have such a lack of empathy?
So, she asks me how looking for work is going.. To which I say, I’m not ready to get back into work, my mental health is nowhere near stable enough. Yep, of bloody course I get called lazy for that. Perfect example of how my family regards mental illness right there.
I decided to gently bring up how I’m feeling and address how nobody is speaking to me and how they all think keeping silent after an assault is the right thing to do- “Well nanny, your own flesh and blood treating you like you’re the one who did something wrong makes you start to hate yourself”
She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to acknowledge how evil this whole situation is.
Every damn time I mentioned the situation, “right, well, I have to go now”
I broke down, started crying hard down the phone, she ignored that and said goodbye and that was that.
I just don’t get it. I’m expected to just accept this shit and sit and watch everyone go on holidays together, plan events and fucking play best fucking friends with a fucking monster who took advantage of a terrified 17 year old girl.
I wish I had reported it at the time but I was so scared and everything bad that I thought would happen has happened.”
And some late night thinking:
“I really feel that, about being almost too involved in your own problems. I really relate lately. I feel kind of like.. Maybe I’m quite immature, in a way, because I do kind of just spend so much time dwelling on my own misery. That’s not to say I haven’t been through some dark shit, but what do I get by playing the victim? I guess part of me feels if I try to “move on”, so to speak, that people will never understand how hard I’ve had it. I’m a little scared if I become this super positive and happy person, that I’ll be forgetting what I’ve overcome. I know that doesn’t really make sense but it’s hard to explain.
I feel pretty lost, which I suppose is nothing new. At least 5 times a week I must genuinely think, “I wish I was dead” and in the moment, I really mean that.
I tend to live in the past, which is such a big part of my depression. I can’t seem to move past what’s happened to me, so much so that I’m wasting the present.
I have so much resentment for people and I hate it because I don’t want to be this jaded, miserable bitch.. But I am. I think about running away so much, not even from anything in particular, just to escape. The worst part is, my life isn’t all that bad. It isn’t fantastic but it isn’t the worst and still I just feel confined to my own heartache and pain.
I don’t feel like I know how to function as an adult, I don’t think I want to let my childhood go, in a lot of ways. And the older I get, the sadder I get, because I get further away from that childhood state. I can’t be babied my whole life but that’s still what my heart longs for. Silly, isn’t it?”
When I last spoke with a member from my mental health team, she asked me, “What do you want?”
And I didn’t know how to respond until I found myself crying, “I just want someone to help me process all of this”