This is a difficult evening. I feel so alone and so down. I’m ‘recovering’ from a nap. The naps seems like such a good idea, but they plunge me into despair.
Today I went for a very long walk with a friend and her visitor. The visitor was very friendly and nice. She’s from another country, and knows German better than English, so we talked German a fair bit. I enjoy talking my old native language sometimes.
However, of course we walked much too far for me. It was enjoyable though, and we finished at the special hot chocolate place, where the hot chocolate is thick and spicy with chili. Yum.
Oh, I wish I didn’t have this ‘disability’. This thing that makes me exhausted, needing sleep after a city walk. That makes me wake up thinking about death. That stops me from cooking, from finishing my laundry. Where I wonder vaguely about help lines, about writing to my therapist. Because I feel I can’t survive this. Whatever this is.
Or if I take a bunch of xanax, will it give me a rest, and I can wake tomorrow feeling normal?
I don’t want this, this pain that comes from nowhere. That i don’t know what it is about. I was mistreated? OK. So were lots of people. I wasn’t beaten and locked into a closet. It was a matter of looks, of being lesser, of silences, of small put downs. Where it left off outside, I continued it faithfully on the inside.
That’s the problem, isn’t it. Yes, it happened out there, when we were small. But then, we take in the damage, and we perpetuate it ourselves. No one has to do anything to us anymore – we carry on ourselves, like little wind-up toys.
That’s why this job feels unbearable. Not the few interactions with the boss that feel belittling, damaging. It’s that I swallow the boss, to keep up the belittling for ever. In some way, I agree with him, I’m no good, I will never measure up. If I didn’t agree, it wouldn’t hurt so intensely. It wouldn’t haunt my time off, my weekends and evenings. Or the times I am working quietly, with no one to disturb me.
I cannot set it aside. The awfulness of the job is in my bones and muscles, so I cannot relax.
This darkness though, feels deeper still. As if I am very small and lost. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong, why I must stay in the dark like this.
I dream of a tiny fairy child, riding back and forth, back and forth on her tiny tricycle. She becomes invisible, and I watch just the tricycle going back and forth. I try to catch the tiny fluttering child in my hands, so I can calm and soothe her, but she eludes my grasp. Another child is there also, with red-blonde hair. She also walks back and forth, crying. I want to help, but don’t know what to do.