I haven't really addressed this specifically as it's been in process. I'm currently being treated for Major Depressive Episode and a relapse of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have been in and out of doctor's offices, in and out of hospitals, seeing specialists, having tests done, telling my life story again and again and this is the current diagnosis for where I'm at. I am struggling.
Each day is a psychological battle. When my eyes open each morning I am plagued by flashbacks of people from my past, things they said, things they did, things they did to me, things I did to them. And for the rest of the day, I have this movie playing behind my eyes of every hurtful thing that has ever happened to me. Sometimes I will be out and a song or a picture will trigger something I haven't thought of in years. And the flashes of memory will overtake me.
My days are punctuated by crying spells that seem to come from nowhere. If I'm out I retreat to the nearest ladies' washroom and curl up on the back of the toilet, sobbing. I feel overwhelmed by life. I find going outside to be a challenge. The sights, smells, sounds, it all feels like too much right now. Like I can't filter the externals because I can't even filter what's going on internally.
Some days I just lie in bed all day and stare at the walls. Curled up in the fetal position I appear catatonic. But inside my head, the memories, the thoughts, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the grief all swirl around. And the thoughts of death. I have had periods of my life where I've felt suicidal. But never felt like acting on them. This is different. Every day I think about how I would do it, down to the minutest detail. I've never been in such a deep place of hopelessness.
I think that leaving the jw's is only really hitting me now that J is gone. He was my last safe space between me and the outside world. When he left, the world rushed in on me. It's big and it's scary and I'm totally unprepared for life in it. I feel like a child, taking its tentative first steps, ever wary. Yet when I look back for that mother to reassure me that everything is okay and I can keep going, there is no one there. I have never felt so alone. I have never been so aware that you are the only one that can choose to live, that can choose to keep going. No one can make that choice for me. At this point I feel pretty indifferent. I feel my life to be insignificant, meaningless. Who is one person in the grand scheme of things? If I were gone tomorrow, life would continue on.
I have lost 30 lbs in the past five months. People keep saying how great I look. Little do they know why I'm not eating. That I have no desire for the foods I used to take such pleasure in. That some days I don't even feel that I deserve to eat, that I have failed so miserably at life that my body does not deserve any further sustenance.
Our lives touch each other every day. J touched my life so profoundly that his absence has kicked up every hurt, every abuse I've ever gone through. Is he responsible for that? I don't know anymore. I just know that seldom do we stop to think how our choices will affect people now and down the road. There is this great web of which we're all a part and we can trigger off any number of outcomes by a word or deed towards another human we share this planet with. It is another reason I like to spend my days in bed. I have weaved enough of a web, hurt enough people, been hurt by enough people. I do not want to have any further impact on my environment.
I am angry at those people who choose so wantonly. Who do not consider what impact their actions will have on others. I am angry at me for having been selfish on occasion in my life and for having hurt people along the way. I am angry at my abusers, angry at those who took my heart for sport. I do not know what to do with all of this emotion sometimes. It runs through me like fire.
Unfortunately, the meds I am on are still not working. It's been two months now. The idea is to give these ones a couple more weeks before moving on to another. I feel like a pharmaceutical whore. And yet I know that I need this intervention right now. I know that I am not fully in control of my actions. My parents bought me a knife block as a new apartment gift. I haven't been able to open it yet. I'm scared to. It sits on my floor in the kitchen. Still in the bag.
My parents have no idea what I'm going through right now. I don't see any point in telling them. I fear receiving the "Well, if you'd just come back to THE TRUTH (the jw's), then you'd feel better" speech. Yes, and that would lead to me spontaneously combusting into a fit of rage where I outline how almost every issue I have stems from being raised in their stupid cult to begin with. Sigh.
In all of this I am blessed with a good support network, people who give a damn. But as I said, I am alone in my head. I am the only one each day hearing the thoughts of suicide. I am the only one having the memories triggered.
From Metric's song "Grow Up and Blow Away":
"If this is the life
Why does it feel so good to die today?"