The truth is, you will never get a break.
The truth is, after a lifetime of struggling with my own self and with the stupid world the way it is, I thought secretly that if it were acknowledged officially that I cannot cope with this world by myself, I would get some help.
At the end of my conversation with C., the counsellor, when she asked me whether I wanted to add anything else before she referred me to the Psychiatric team, I said to her:
“You know, whenever I talk to anybody, I always come across as strong, independent, like I can sort out everything and anything. But please, that’s just my instinctive confidence mask coming on. Please, I could do with some help.”
That’s what the counsellor said to me years ago, after my first suicide attempt: “I don’t know how to help you, you seem so confident and sure of yourself, you clearly seem to have all the answers.” That’s what my big friend said, the friend whom I so often sought for guidance, but always came back to me for guidance instead: “You will never go insane”. Of course not: I am needed, I can’t afford to let go.
I am a loving person and would never abandon those who rely upon me. Will never knowingly hurt anybody’s feelings and am devastated whenever anybody takes offence at something I said, feels bad because of something I did or said. I will feel as low as mud if I have hurt you, offended you, or made you think even for a second that I disrespect you or anything, anything bad. My intentions are and have always been and will always be the best.
I got to the stage where I grew a little disillusioned about a lot of people. I grew up. But there are still the innocents; my children, my animals, and for them, I will never give up. Not until they are all walking this earth, or at least not until they all feel like they need me in any way. Not until my not being there will not cause them excessive pain.
But in the meantime? In the meantime accepting that you may be ill, accepting that your mind is not working right, that you don’t know which of your many true selves is the truest self, accepting and letting people use the words you accept about yourself against you, is NOT a ticket into help. No, you are still held responsible for everything, you are still accused of everything, you will still be misread, misunderstood, accused.
I have lived so many years surviving one thing after the other. Getting out of everything as best I could so often swallowing my pride because my children are involved. Apologising… SO MANY TIMES. So sorry, about this and that and everything and the world around. Always sorry. Always yes you are right I am irresponsible, I was foolish, I did wrong. It gets to a point where I don’t shout back at you anymore that my intentions were good, that I didn’t MEAN for that to happen, that I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter anymore.
That’s ok, put me in charge, punish me, I’ll take on the responsibility like I have done so many times before. I will fuck up and acknowledge my mistakes and do it again. I will work as much as I used to and ask psych to please just give something so I can focus, because it’s very hard to work if you can’t focus.
Eventually rest will come for me as well.