I went home for the weekend. It was okay, but I just don’t enjoy anything. Instead I get frustrated and want to escape. I’m glad to be back in the hospital but also sad because I have been here for four weeks and I don’t feel there has been much change. Saying that makes me feel like I am ungrateful for the time here and the help from those around me. But I can’t lie. I am deeply unhappy.
I will most likely be going home on Tuesday and then I’m not sure what I’m meant to do. I don’t feel strong enough to deal with life, and I’m increasingly dreaming of a release from this world.
If someone asked me what I wanted to happen, I would have no words. In fact I really have no clue. I just don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to feel paper thin – like the smallest gust of wind would send me tumbling. Like I’m at risk of tearing in two at any moment.
Sometimes I think a few more weeks here could be helpful, but not with Mum and Dad around. I feel like I need space from them to be me without judgment. I need space to let things out without having to stuff them back in again so tight, so quickly that I don’t know who I am or what I’m thinking or feeling. But it won’t happen. I’ll go home on Tuesday, I’ll go to work next week and I’ll feel the same. I think that’s what everyone expects me to do – just suck it up because there’s nothing they can do for me. I don’t know who “everyone” is exactly – the doctor, the nurses. I think they are all sick of me, and rightly so. I’ve wasted so much of their time. I can’t talk to them. I can’t explain anything. I don’t even know what I’m meant to say. I’m so pathetic. And I know I should challenge that thought, but how do you challenge it when it’s so absorbing? When I feel it in my whole being?
I know I probably sound melodramatic and cliche, but I’m fed up. I need this to lift just a bit so I can breathe a little. I need something to hold on to. Need, need, need. My neediness and weakness disgust me.
Should I write down how I feel, what I think? Should I give that to the doctor? Would she think me pathetic and immature? Would it be better than answering her, “How are you,” with “Okay” as I usually do?
I have realised that I often expect, or not expect, but hope for people to “see me”, to be able to see how I feel and think and how much I am hurting and then do something about it. You would have thought by now that I’d have worked out that’s not how things work at all. You would have thought I learnt that the hard way in fact, when I was just a girl and no one came to my rescue. But I still have this pathetic fantasy – my happy ever after dream. What’s wrong with me?
I could go on but it would all be along the same boring negativity I am caught up in. My whole existence is caught up in it. I’m not sure I’ll ever get out.