Fuck.

I love going home, but it keeps fucking with my head. I have a great time while I’m there, but when I come back to the city, I fall apart.

I hate being reminded of all the things I don’t remember. My (foster) brother spent the day at my parents place yesterday. I love him and I’m so happy he’s around, but I feel so ashamed and uncomfortable that I don’t have a single memory of him from the decade he lived with us on and off. Not of sitting around the dinner table, not of the family holidays he came on, not the time he broke his arm, not anything.

I was talking to my cousin about our grandparents farm, and somehow our old sheepdog, Jessie, came up. I loved dogs but wasn’t allowed one at my parents, so I adored Jessie – she was around since I was a baby, and she died when I was about 11.

Remember how sick she was at the end?” C said. “When her legs kept giving out and we’d find her just lying on the ground and she couldn’t get up? I still haven’t forgiven Dad for what he did – she was so terrified of guns, but he took her out in the paddock and shot her so he didn’t have to spend money to have the vet put her down. She must have been so scared.

I still think about Jessie, even mentioned her to Anna last year, but until two days ago, I hadn’t realised that I had no idea what had happened. I don’t remember her being sick. I don’t remember when she died. C is only a year older than me, and she thought I remembered all of this. I should at least remember being sad that my pet was dead.

And sometimes my memories aren’t right. Over a cup of coffee with a different cousin, I said something about how our nanna couldn’t hurt a fly – she died when I was 13 and again, I don’t have a single actual memory of her, but my feeling is that she was gentle and sweet. My cousin looked at me like I was insane.

Seriously?! She used to smack us with a stick until it left welts on our legs.

And, I mean, so what if I don’t remember, right? But sometimes it feels like I’m a stranger in my own life and I don’t know what I’m doing here.

And ever since I was deeply, intensely suicidal last year and all my therapists wanted me committed, I’m only half there whenever I see my family and catch up with my friends. The other half of me is thinking about whether this is going to be the last time I’m ever going to see them. What do I want the last thing I ever say to them to be? What memory can I give them to hold onto when I’m gone? When I hug them goodbye, I hang on a little longer than normal, soaking it up and trying to remember what it feels like, in case this is my last chance to make a memory that I can call up to think about while I’m dying. It’s good, in a way – I tell people I love them a lot more than I used to – but it’s tiring and it’s sad. I don’t even really want to die, right now, but on the plane I was running through my normal checklist – who do I still need to write suicide letters to? have I checked whether my student debt will pass to my family when I die? I really need to write out who I want my stuff and my money to go to.

When I got home last night, I found R had gathered up all the things I had at his house and left them in the middle of my room. That hurt. Including the stuffed dog from Anna, which I’d left with him because I can’t bear to have in my room but didn’t want to throw out.

None of the psychiatrists I’d picked can see me, and my doctor said she’s not making any more calls. If I want a referral I’m going to have to call the crisis team.

I don’t remember why self harm is a bad idea. I honestly can’t think of any reasons why I shouldn’t do it. I’ve cut over 500 times and burnt myself more than 30 – so what if I do it again? What difference does it make?

I caught up with R this afternoon, even though I didn’t want to, and he asked if I wanted to talk about anything. I felt completely, unaccountably furious, and I wanted to yell at him, overturn the table and storm out. No, I DON’T want to talk about anything! Fuck you, and fuck Jen and Aisha! But I do want to talk, just not to him, and not to anyone who’s actually here. I want to talk to Anna.

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Fuck.

13 thoughts on “Fuck.

  1. So many tender places you’re having touched right now – which is why your questioning the SH, and wanting Anna make a lot of sense to me. She was so comforting, when she was, and did genuinely care for you (as best she could). And you miss her. Miss having that support, of all of them. Sorry the referrals didnt work out, I was really hoping that last one would.
    Thinking of you, sending support. You can pretend walk around NYC today with me if you want :).
    Also, is R a co-worker? Ex? Friend? Trying to gauge his level of involvement/intimacy in your life. He sounds to be somewhat of a triggering person :-/

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    1. Invitation to pretend walk with you gratefully accepted, though I’m disappointed you didn’t pretend – invite me to the Broadway show 😉

      R is my boss and my friend, but mostly my surrogate father, I guess. I moved to the city because he offered me a job, and I was technically homeless for the first 8 months I was here so I lived at his place every time he went away, and ended up having my own room and key and open invitation. He doesn’t have any children or a partner so he took on a parental role and he knows more about me than any other person – he used to pay for Jen and Aisha and he was always the one to make calls about finding a new psychologist or psychiatrist for me. I care about him very much but our dual relationships and our combined mental health issues (he has borderline personality disorder, and also has Aspergers) make our relationship very fraught and often very triggering.

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      1. You made me smile 🙂 I wasn’t even thinking!
        Ah, thanks for the background. I understand so much better now, your conflict in the relationship and how it would be very triggering. Wow, there is a lot there. He has been a real support, in times when you really needed support. And, the dual relationships (and that he is still seeing your old therapist) must be wildly triggering.

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      2. Oh god, so much. The other day I barely resisted the impulse to say “yeah, well, YOU still get to see Aisha”. Which is crazy, because I’m the one who decided not to see her any more, but emotions know no logic.

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  2. I’m sorry that finding new professionals is such a crap shoot. Its really crap how mental health services work (or don’t work). I hope the crisis team people have some workable options for you. I see why self harm sounds like a good idea. It always does, but somehow its not quite as satisfying as I think it should be at least for me. Guess thats why its not a healthy coping skill (well that and its kind of ummm harmful). I’m sorry you are in such a hard place with little support. Was R kicking you out?

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    1. Basically, yeah. I normally stay at his place whenever he’s away and sometimes when he’s there, so some of my stuff lives there and I have (had) my own bedroom decorated with my photos, etc. But now he’s returned my stuff and told me that if I want to go over I have to call and check with his assistant first and tell her why I want to go and how long I’m going to be there. Ouch. On the flip side, I’m literally looking at my kitten sniffing a flower right now, which is pretty damn cute.

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      1. I’m glad you have your kitten!. So R. is putting up some boundaries…. Has he done that before? Is there a reason behind this change?

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      2. Yeah – long story short(er), a few weeks ago I was sick and exhausted from caring for my nieces and nephew but we had a deadline so I worked 12 hour days that week to get it done. Gave him the finished product 6.30 Friday, told him I was going home and, since I was going to have to work over the weekend, wasn’t working that night. An hour later he sent me a text telling me to check my email and send him a reply. I responded and told him I would but that I would appreciate him asking me to help rather than telling me. The next day I sent him another message reminding him that even when I set (pretty loose) boundaries I still love and care about him, but he took it very badly, didn’t talk to me for over a week, etc, and I ended up crawling back to him even though I don’t think I did anything wrong.

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  3. I’m really tired and low on words right now. I wanted to say that this is all a lot, and very hard to deal with. I hate that your doctor won’t make more calls. It’s not your fault the psychiatrists can’t see you. I’m sorry. You really deserve to have support and care. Please don’t give up. Xx

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