My therapists office is shut down until the pandemic settles down. My mental health is pretty poor lately. I donât know how to let go of pain or accept that anyone cares. I donât know what healthy looks like.
This is long and probably full of triggers, but I need to vent it. Take this as a trigger warning I guess. If nothing else, maybe someone will read this and feel less alone in what theyâre going through.
The first person I ever trusted with my depression told me they were sick of hearing about my problems and to âjust kill yourself already.â I was 15, and had no one else to go to.
I remember the texture of that shitty yellow box cutter I physically wrestled out of a friends hands away from their neck. I sat with them all night. They had a family and a son that loved them very much. Days later they stole some of the only musical gear I owned, things important to my life and keeping me sane. I still see that shitty futon and the blood on your arms and hear how your voice wavered with tears streaming down your face.
I remember being in that same room, on all sorts of drugs and alcohol trying to find some semblance of coping. I remember my âfriendsâ standing around me and laughing as a man in his mid thirties pinned me down. I felt violated, and everyone just stood there and watched. I remember them egging on a drunk girl to get naked and get on top of me, and how sick I felt. I remember the texture on the purple velvet party hat she was wearing.
I remember waking up after a night of binge drinking to a message from someone I thought was a friend saying they liked being âthe first.â Their form of reassurance was telling me they werenât pregnant and to not worry. I canât forget something I wasnât mentally there for to begin with. That doesnât mean I donât feel it.
I remember the night a friend and I drank a whole bottle of wine and stayed up all night talking. I wanted to be there for her while she dealt with some problems. It sucked to watch someone I cared about be treated like shit. I remember a week later when she hit me, threw me face first into a table, and told me she didnât give a shit about me. In front of friends. They told me to forgive her. They never asked how I was. My head hurt for a week. I remember it vividly.
I remember every time you left. I remember the expression on your face. I remember in 2010 parting on the bridge near your house after walking you home from school. You led me around by the hand before, we stopped by that Christian bookstore. I remember 2011 outside of the cafe, lending you my jacket. Your parents came and you hugged me goodbye. Again, outside the school, you told me you didnât love me and we walked away. I remember you messaging me a year and a half later, after you had told me weâd never speak again, and you left again. I remember that open mic in 2013, and sitting in the empty room across from you trying so fucking hard to not fall apart. I remember seeing you in line for brand new with him. I told you I didnât, but I did. I remember hiding outside alone with Scotty and chain smoking through half their set just hoping I wouldnât see you. I remember 2014 and that small cafe near your college dorm, the shape of it all. Not being able to bring myself to talk to you face to face the first time there, and hugging you goodbye the next time. I remember 2016 when you sat down for tea at my work with your friend, and how you left and came back in pretending you forgot to buy that grapefruit soda. All the endless nights we talked, the photos of half eaten food on the shelves at the grocery store where you worked. The nights where it was just us after hours, just sitting there talking. I remember the Valentineâs Day cars I made for you, telling you that I would be there for you no matter what. I remember the little fox finger puppet I saw in knapps and had to buy immediately because I thought it would make you smile. I remember giving it to you the night you hugged me goodbye again. The next and last time you came back, you were home for two months before you said a word to me. You said you were afraid. I never stopped being afraid. It took everything in me to meet your family. Trying to help Eli get the training wheels on his new bike, or tune his new guitar. Going to Joieâs birthday party and meeting your parents again after years. Spending thanksgiving and Christmas surrounded by your family. Introducing you to mine, the first time I had brought anyone home since 2012. I was slowly falling apart along with everything else in my life but you, for the first time. I didnât know if Iâd end up homeless, Most of my friends were gone. I shrank into myself. I remember you telling me you werenât happy on the floor of my room. I remember you telling me you felt alone, and the tire tracks in the snow from the last time you left. I remember the silence that followed. I remember the night I tried calling you three times after not hearing from you for a week, and the desperation I felt for you to just once come back when I needed you to and it wasnât just for yourself. I remember the three nights that followed in the hospital, and reading through the copy of Mother Night that Jason had given me a few months before he passed, three times in a row. I remember the winter breeze through those old metal barred windows, and the view of the playground. I remember apologizing, and explaining what Iâve been going through the best I could. I remember the distance you put between us, and how much I just needed you here, and to really hear me just once. I remember how easy it was for you to leave and let go, because it always has been for you. Because itâs what you do. I remember giving my whole heart to a girl who always put me second. Who, whenever things werenât easy or perfect, gave up and left. I remember being terrified of constantly losing someone I cared so much about.
Most of all, I remember being too afraid to speak about any of it, or show how I felt. Because Iâm always scared. Of my own head, of the world, of not being good enough. Fear is what I know. People leaving is what I know. Being hurt is all Iâve ever known.
Self isolation is eating away at me right now, because for the first time in my life Iâm trying to know self care, and Iâm trying to know what being happy could really mean. It feels like the world could end any day. Hopefully someone can see this and feel less alone in whatever theyâre going through. The world is an especially scary place right now, but no one has to be alone. Not through this or anything else.
areudirty
stormborns
pixelskylines
jacobvanloon
2087
blakekathryn
gracieabrams
romaincrisis
