Long Nights

Wednesday 8th August

I don’t even know where to start.  My head is such a mess right now.  My feelings are all muddled inside and my mind just won’t shut down.  Why do I always have to remember?  I forgot once, so why do I have to remember now?  There are too many years of pain, mistakes and selfish paths taken always playing like a film in a cinema in my mind.  You can try to ignore it, but somehow it keeps seeping through into the present.   I wish I could just scream and scream, smash something up.  Maybe my face, it seems as good a place as any.  The meds are not working right now, or I am just too messed up for them to help.   I know my dose of Quetiapine should be 300 a day, but I am going to take 2 150’s tonight instead of just 1.  Maybe with double the usual dose my brain will have no choice but to shut down and I can sleep.  The wounds never show, and they never go away, like moving pictures in my head they keep playing.  I feel so ashamed all the time.  I look in the mirror and see a fat, ugly selfish bitch that doesn’t deserve to live.  My girls love me, I know this, but I don’t feel worthy of that love.  Rob says he loves me, but I can’t help but think he doesn’t.  What is there to love?  What is there that is worth anything but his disgust?  Sometimes I think it would be better if it was all over, just take the whole box and then sleep forever.  But I know even this thought is selfish.  It would leave my girls with scars, maybe even bigger than mine.  I see the past as clear as the present and then sometimes, I wonder.  How much of it is real?  Is it all in my mind?  Is the whole world in my mind and I am just rotting away in some room in a mental ward somewhere?  Never even having a life, or a family, just me and that room, from the day I was born until the day I finally die.  But then, that would be too easy wouldn’t it?  It just feels like all I am, all I ever knew was a lie.  None of it is real because I’m not real.  Oh I know all the clinical names for everything I feel, I know that this is dissociation, and the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and the feelings are from the Emotional Unstable Personality Disorder.  But knowing the names doesn’t make it any less.  It just means I know I am not entirely crazy.  Well, No, not exactly, I know I am crazy, I just have clinical names for it.   I know it will pass, with time.  It’s just like riding a wave.  Right now I am sinking, going under and drowning.  But soon I will rise out of the wave again and start surfing.  Hahaha, maybe not, but you get the meaning.  If I don’t feel like crying, then I feel angry.  I wish I could go back to feeling nothing again.  It’s so easy to pretend when there is nothing there.  Smile, laugh, hug, kiss, and let it all pass by.   But when you feel angry or depression, it’s not so easy to hide.  I wish it was.  But every day feels like a marathon, hiding what is really going on inside.  Still trying to laugh and smile when all you want to do is disappear.  Even crying is too much.  I feel like I need to cry, but I can’t do it.  I can’t cry, I can’t laugh, I fake smile but inside is like a stone.  It feels so heavy.  It’s been a long time since I have felt this bad.  Well, about 6 months and I consider that lucky.  6 months is a good run.  Now I am struggling to stay afloat at the bottom of a long well.  I can see the opening, but I can never reach it.  Well, there you go, 300 Quetipine taken.  All I need to do now is to wait for them to take effect, and then hope I fall into darkness.  No dreams would be nice, but I think that is too much to ask.  It really is so tempting to take a lot more.  Not so I can die, no, I don’t want to die, I just don’t want to feel anymore.  I don’t want to remember, I don’t want to feel so ashamed, such hatred for myself.  And I do hate myself so very much.   I rest my head back against the bed and I can see a spider web hanging from the ceiling.  It looks like it has been there a while, it’s dusty.  But it’s blowing from the heat of the radiator, or maybe it’s a draft from the window.  Who knows.  But I wish I could blow away my cob webs.  Take all the old baggage and stuff it back into old crates and suitcases and hide it all back at the end of the storage that is my memories.  It was there once before, but my mind just had to drag it all out, pull it out and rifle through it to see what they contained.  What nightmares and horrors and skeletons could be unearthed, and I unearthed a whole graveyard.  And nearly every day they is something new, a new grave found and dug up.  Like finding out that Dad was actually kicked out of the navy for being a paedophile because Lena was just 14, dishonourably discharged.   I don’t even know why it such a shock, not when it is so blatantly obvious. How in the hell didn’t anyone see it before?  A sailor and a 14 year old girl, come on for fucks sake!  What did I expect?  Why did I think he had left the navy?  I guess I didn’t.  I didn’t think about the why or how, I just took the knowledge given me and accepted it, like most of my life.  Like we were taught to do, never ask questions, never bring up the past and never question anyone.  What a bunch of fucking crap!  That is basically my whole life though isn’t it?  All I have been doing is walking through crap!  Crap up to my knees and I just smile and keep on walking.  I wish those tablets would start to work already.  I am tired, but I think that is just normal tired from feeling so shit all day and holding the tears that wouldn’t fall, and the anger that wouldn’t rage out.  It’s such hard work, and I am so tired.  My head is fuzzy, but it’s still turning, still moving, still thinking, still feeling too much.  What will it take to stop these feelings?  What will it take to shut it off?  I think I will try laying down now.  I may be able to sleep, I may just lay there with too many thoughts going on and on, watching the movie that is on tonight.  Who knows which era it will be this time, oh the suspense.  How come they are never happy ones?  Why is it always the bad ones all the time?  I bet the shrinks couldn’t answer that one.  What makes the bad ones stick when the good ones get buried beneath them?  My music is playing and I think I may leave it to play, perhaps then it might trigger a good memory for once, and that will be worth dreaming.  R called me beautiful the other day and I almost cried.  What a sap I am.  I don’t feel beautiful, I feel fat, ugly, and not worth the compliment.  For goodness sake, how long do those bloody pills take to work?  It’s nearly 11.30 and I am still awake.  Fuzzy, but still awake, still thinking, still feeling, still breathing, well that just about sucks big time.  How ironic, there are only a few songs left on my play list and the last one is Evanescence, Breath no more.  Perhaps I will just skip the last few and get to the encore.  If only everything was that easy.  Skip forward through the bad times and get to the good ones again.  I think I will just lay down my head now and hope darkness comes.