Many memories surfacing, like puzzle pieces. 50 year old instances where I felt unwanted, unneeded, unloved. Preyed upon, ignored, wanting just some attention. Yes, absolutely, wanting attention, wanting to know I mattered, wanting a little reassurance that I was included, loved. But how can that happen where everyone's in chaos? No one's to blame when everyone's trying desperately to survive. And many more times in later life, I kept getting the message, over and over. That I was not wanted, that I had cheated, that I was unfairly chosen. So much of folk's unatttended pain slicing at me. Tearing pieces out of me in their misdirected anguish. A target so young, for so long. It's no wonder I want to die. No wonder I feel so unworthy of this life. No wonder I hurt so much. Every child should have attention, we are meant to thrive not waste away emotionally for closing on 6 decades. Searing. The hurt feels so old I can't trace its origin, it precedes my verbal ability. But that doesn't matter. What matters is it's real. It may not be like anyone else's experience. How could it be? I think too much for the other. I cultivate empathy and it is at root a survival strategy. If I can read another person I can plan and protect, myself, possibly others.yet I'm told I bully as well. Probably true. I don't appear to have much self awareness, I think I talk a good game but truly I'm on the edge ready to attack or take myself out. Extremes only, no in between. In between gets you hurt. Or so it seems. I'm tired of all this shit. Wishing I didn't feel so little and vulnerable and young.I'm 53 but might as well be 4. I'm so very late to the dance.
So the MAOI effort was a bust. I'm weaned off. Just clonazepam for sleep. Spent all day numb but after dog walk feelings surfacing, as they do. This flat nothing is awful. Like I'm a piece of wood. Don't feel human, and yet a part of me registers this as strange so I am not operating at normal capacity. It turns out it's likely no one has an effing clue why depression and PTSD are. I mean they can be described, pretty accurately but the mechanism and, crucially, WHY seems to have eluded us all. The research on medication efficacy is apparently sketchy, thank you for that you money grabbing fuckers for the past varied 16 years.
Nope, still numb.
I have been thinking about cutting more. Haven't. Still pick and pull off strips of skin though (currently my feet are healed). So what's the difference?
Paranoia is relentless and cruel. And it's not encouraging. I've been obsessing over what might be happening and on a day I really needed to reach out and talk, the people I did reach weren't really available, had to go, etc before I asked for what I needed, which was just to talk. This reminds me of my working days. Paranoia woke me up at 3, just like old times. All I can imagine is I've screwed up, that I've alienated those I was trying to help, that no one wants to hear from me. I feel too intense, I feel stupid, useless, annoying, I feel a failure. I'm full of big feelings but haven't let them out. A little on my walk on the beach with Sman yesterday, but it's quasi public plus, more importantly, I needed to stay illusory-strong for Strider. He was such a good boy for me. The ache of loneliness is such I wonder how I bear it. I want so much to feel connected, to be part of something, but it seems my fear just makes me choose to unhinge it. My fear of connection is stronger than my longing. Fuck. Can I not just feel good once in a awhile? It seems any hint of good feeling gets crushed, my spirit if it dares to reveal itself however briefly, gets grounded into my self. I'm so alone. I have little strength to battle back against my own harsh thoughts.what a foe I would be on a battlefield, except the only enemy is me.