It follows me. It’s this little voice inside my head that just won’t go away. Things have been relatively OK this week. Just been studying and doing my thing, closed up in what I like to call the dungeon (the room where I study). Nothing new, just books and practice questions, and practice tests…
But there’s this little voice. This little remnant of what used to be a scream before I started therapy…this voice that says things can’t be fine. No. They have to be wrong. Otherwise I’m not living. The voice keeps saying: “If things are fine then it’s all fake. It’s not real. You’re not real.”
I don’t know if I like recovery.
There. I said it.
There’s this self-destructive instinct in me that therapy and meds still haven’t quelled. It’s hard to admit. It’s almost embarrassing. Here I am, fooling everyone into thinking that I’m better and I’m fine, when in reality I don’t even know if I like to be “just fine”. Deep down there’s this longing for pain when it’s not there. And when I’m in pain I hate it. Who can understand me?
Then the voice says: “Cut. Do it”
And for a moment there I look at my scars and I think: “Hey, maybe just one more will be OK?” And then I think of M and how much I’d be letting her down if I do it. But the voice doesn’t go away. It’s still there.
It’s the same voice that keeps saying: “Don’t trust M. She’s laughing at you. She hates you. She thinks you’re pathetic and a damn pain in the ass. Push her away. Push her far away. Put up walls! Protect yourself!”.
Sometimes I just want to listen to the voice and not get better. And whenever I don’t have therapy with M the voice gets stronger. So, yes, I’m having a hard time ignoring the voice right now. I keep thinking that if I get better then M will go away. And that means abandonment. And abandonment is bad.
So I’m left in this little tug-of-war, between getting better and not getting better. Between what the voice tells me is real and what it tells me is fake.
Do I want to be real or do I want to be fake?