Ineffable-monody @ineffable-monody - Tumblr Blog

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Oh fuck im crashing out. I’m so achingly lonely. I truly feel like I will never have real intimacy again. Physical touch. Not sexual touch. Longing. Being noticed. Being wanted. I hate how much I want to be wanted. I hate how much I hate being alone. How badly I crave intimacy and partnership and love. How badly I just want to be loved. I hate it.

I know I sound dramatic but it’s been what 3 years now? And it’s flown by. I feel like we just broke up. And he’s already found someone. Someone who will love him, and give him intimacy, and someone he will notice.

I think every man I’ve ever loved has eventually looked through me. I become invisible. Or not enough. Or both.

I feel like this broken piece of nothing. Like a bird he crushed in his hand and dropped in the street. Like all my bones are broken and my feathers are gone and I can’t sing I can’t fly I can’t fucking breathe. All I know is numbness. Looking at everyone pass me by. I feel like I’m made of nothing. I feel nothing. I’m nothing.

Maybe I don’t exist anymore. Maybe if I didn’t exist anymore no one would even know. Maybe this is what I needed to feel. To experience. Maybe I’m being punished. Maybe I need to be. I can’t think. I just feel so achingly alone. And I can’t see a future. I can’t see it changing. I’m going to keep getting older and more time will pass and my body will deteriorate and I will dissolve and no one will notice and I will always feel this aching.

I think I’m getting depressed again. I keep thinking about Riley. And having dreams about Luke. And I look at my body every day with so much hate and defeat that I will never be loved again.

I read a poem about how I was a girl until he called. And I don’t feel like a girl anymore. Not someone that is cute and looked at and considered. I feel like an invisible woman you pass in the grocery store and can’t remember her face. Someone driving a car in your dream. A blur. Just a body. Grey matter.

I don’t know how to get out.

Feeling a bit anxious tonight. It was my birthday yesterday. Feels kind of lonely to only have a few friends. Confidence is low. And when I’m alone, like tonight, I struggle finding things to do. I keep going to social media and checking for nothing. Scrolling nothing. I can’t relax

I wish I could start over. Every year of my life I’ve told myself it’ll get better. It’s never gotten better. It had never gotten better. Every time I think I’m at my lowest i go lower. I feel like I’m underground. I’m so deep down I’ll never get back up there again. It’s never gotten better.

I don’t remember what it feels like to hold someone’s hand. Or be kissed. I don’t remember what it feels like to be looked at. I think it will take years. And at that point, I’ll be so used to the emptiness, idk if I’ll ever get to go back. I can’t help but feel like this life is done. Wasted. Too far gone. I can’t see a way back anymore.

But did I ever really even have a shot? I can’t remember a time in my life without trauma. I’ve never been comfortable in my body. I’ve never felt confident. Idk what it’s supposed to feel like. What it’s actually supposed to be. I feel like I just look at pictures of people’s lives.

I’m still so triggered by him. It’s weird how things rush back to me. Comments that he made over the years. Belittling, insulting, demeaning, negging comments. He’d tell me he didn’t like when I wore makeup. Or lipstick. Or how he thought the tights I wore for that wedding were ugly and unattractive.

But then he’d also say I wasn’t trying enough. Was I even trying to be sexy anymore? As if he did for me? As if I had any capacity to try? As if that was my sole purpose on top of taking care of him like a child. He never made me FEEL sexy. So yeah, I didn’t try anymore.

He’d make comments about how unhealthy I was. How I reminded him of his grandma whose obesity became a disability. How concerned he was that I’d be out of breath on walks, but not concerned about the pain I was in that prevented me from being able to do more.

He’s only ever compliment me when I was at my grossest. When I felt completely low. And when I got done up and felt good about my appearance he said nothing. Never when I got dressed up for weddings. He made fun of my dresses. Never when other people said I looked good. He rolled his eyes.

And now that I’ve gained even more weight, that my skin is worse, my hair is thinner, my body feels wrong. All I can hear are those comments. He never said things like “no one is ever going to find you attractive”. But he made sure I felt that.

I feel so fucking alone right now. My own mom won’t even comfort me anymore. I’m tired of needing to do this on my own. I’m know I’m the only one that can take care of me but I just wanted some fucking support and empathy but I guess that’s too much to even expect. I guess I have to just do this life completely alone.

I feel so alone. Consuming. Defeating.

I just feel like a ghost watching everyone live and not feeling seen by anyone. My sisters look through me. I watch them laugh and talk about boys and friends. And I have nothing to share.

I can’t imagine being looked at. Being wanted. By men. By friends. I just feel like blending into the wall and no one sees me at all.

Depression hits like a wave through my chest. It’s this sinking feeling that travels down my body. It almost makes me shake. I feel my eyes watering. My chest getting tight. My head starting to hurt. Everything tenses up. I’m holding back tears in bed.

Reading that book made me so sad. Reading about love. About boys that grab girls faces. And brush their hair away. And hold their hand and look at them in love. Who reassure them. Hold them. Gaze at them.

There’s this very small part of me that remembers what that felt like. I think it hurt me so much when that ended I put up such a strong wall that I don’t even let myself peek through the cracks anymore.

He did love me. He did hold my hand. We did run through the rain and hold each other and he gazed at me. He was my world. And I felt like I was his. Until I realized I wasn’t. When he stopped looking at me. And started looking at other girls. And asking for more. And it didn’t feel like love anymore.

And now I forgot that feeling. And I hate myself and my body so much I don’t know how a man could ever look at me that way again. ME. That someone would want ME.

I feel like I’ve just watched all the men I’ve loved and looked at like that move on and look at other girls like that. Love other girls like that. But not me.

And I’m scared I never will. And having to accept myself as I am. And accept being alone. I can’t do it. Honestly I’ve never said anything like this before but accepting that would make me want to kill myself. I wouldn’t really want to live the rest of my life knowing I’d have to do it all alone. I honestly couldn’t think of anything more painful than that.

I wouldn’t do that. But it does feel like accepting that is accepting death. And I just can’t.

So it’s Saturday night. My parents left at 4 today for Milwaukee. All day I’ve been nervous about entertaining Brooke. I’ve been fighting people pleasing and trying not to parent her etc. we laid around all day doing nothing - played Fortnite till she got mad. Unpacked her clothes till she got mad. Watched the rehearsal till she got bored. I suggested getting Chinese cus I knew she’d like that. I suggested playing a new game cus I knew she’d like that. I set it all up. I ate with her. We started playing. And then she contemplated all night about going out. I tried to be encouraging and hear her out and say she’d have fun but don’t make yourself go if you don’t want to etc. she did her makeup. I played the game and entertained her. She did her hair. I played the game and entertained her. Her friend stopped answering her. She looked at Dylan’s story. And then she shut down. Stopped watching the game. Downed a glass of wine. Wouldn’t look up from her phone. I paused and said “it seems like you don’t wanna play anymore”. Yeah. I don’t. “Okay let’s stop then”. Huge attitude. I said “you’ve shut down for like an hour now”. She goes “well yeah I was supposed to go out tonight and now no one is answering me and I saw something I didn’t wanna see tonight and you’re not playing how I want you to play”. I said don’t take that out on me that’s not fair. She storms up to her room. I’m trying to calm my body down and remind myself I’m not responsible for her mood. But it’s really hard sitting in this discomfort and not attempting to repair and text her and make things better. I’m not going to because I’m trying to make changes. But it feels wrong.

Things on my mind right now 5-20-25

- my resentment with my dad

- my weight and wanting to move my body

- my pain in my ankle

- wanting to do photography but not knowing how to start

- being a bad friend

- Brooke coming home

- losing interest in my hobbies like video games and apothecary writing

- doing my portfolio for work and not feeling motivated

Therapy today 5-15-25 was about dermatillomania. I realized I have so much self hate and embarrassment and guilt because it was taught to me. My mom has no compassion for my dad’s trichotillomania. She’s shamed him for getting so many haircuts. She holds no compassion for him dealing with his stress.

A memory came back about my mom looking at my chest at 12 years old and telling me “I want you to take care of that this weekend”. How? How was I supposed to do that at 12 years old with a time limit? I hid it. I picked at it. I scrubbed my skin with chemicals until I bled. I did that for years. I do that now.

And I realized. Even if they don’t hold compassion for me. I can. I can hold myself and tell myself it’s okay. I’m coping. I’m healing. It will take time. We can work on it. No time limit. No hiding no shame.

He didn’t see me. I need someone who sees me. I think I’m starting to see me

Idk how to describe what I’m feeling lately. I feel this anxiousness in my body that I can’t shake. I feel disregulated. I can’t calm down during work and I can’t calm down after work. Then when I finally log off i just sit here in panic. It’s like Sunday scaries all the time. I can’t focus on tv shows I don’t really have the desire to do hobbies or read. I crave connection but I don’t really wanna reach out to anybody.

It’s February 18th. It’s been a year and 4 months since I left Riley. I had therapy today and it was bad. I let out a lot of stuff. But I think my mask slipped and I let out too much because she’s recommending taking a leave from work to do a mental health program for a few months. I can’t handle that right now. I can’t put that on my mom.

I think it hit me today why I resonated so much with that show Dark. And with Jonas. I just want to go back. I want to go back to before all this shit happened. To at least my sophomore year of college. 2016. I feel like I’m stuck there. Like there’s this version of me that’s so innocent there. And I feel like Jonas looking through the window at his younger self with scars and dirty and bruised. A version of me that wasn’t raped. That wasn’t abused. That didn’t have surgery. That wasn’t hospitalized. That wasn’t my size now. Part of me hates her. I’m so jealous that I think seeing her I would hate her. For not having to go through what I’ve gone through. I feel robbed. I feel violated. I feel used and wasted and like I had everything going for me and that version of me would be married now. I’d probably be pregnant right now. Getting my baby’s room together. Decorating a house with someone that loved me. I’d be thin and happy and right on track. And instead I’m the Jonas that got left behind. The one that got stuck. And I’ll never have that. Or if I do it’ll be so much later than it was supposed to be. And it’ll be painful. And my health will suffer. And I just can’t see a way out.

I’m so mad at myself for getting to this point. For getting fat. For being depressed. For not showering. For not taking care of my teeth. For not having confidence. Not knowing how to dance. Not being interesting. Not having friends. Wasting my potential. Or letting these men take it from me so willingly.

How do I get back. How do I turn back time. Because even if I turn everything around right now I don’t think it’s enough. I think this life has been wasted. I’ll have to do all those things in my next life. This one I get to watch pass me by. And I feel like a ghost watching it happen. Everything is moving so fast around me and I’m standing still. And by the time I can move again everything and everyone will be gone and then what’s the point. Why do it at all.

I have such bad imposter syndrome. My rape wasn’t rape enough. My abuse wasn’t abusive enough. My art is stolen and unoriginal and unimportant. My childhood was good. I’m privileged. The friends I have don’t really like me that much. And the ones I thought I had didn’t really even know I was there. No one knows I’m here. No one knows I’m here. No one knows I’m here.

I got rid of his location today. And it felt like I cut the last tie between us. I think I was looking all the time to make sure that he was miserable too. That he was rotting at home. Or at work. And wasn’t seeing anyone new. Or going out. But he was seeing friends. He was doing stuff. And he was fine. And that just hurt every time I would see it.

Idk what I want. I miss him. I miss his laugh. I miss how he would dance and get emotional to songs. I miss how he would hug me. I don’t miss how scared he made me. How alone he made me feel. So idk. I feel more alone than ever now.

I’m having bad thoughts again. I don’t understand why I’m not loved. Why it’s so hard to love me. Why do all these people get to move on with their life and have partners that actually love and support them. I feel like an extra that could dissappear tomorrow and only my family would care.

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