I’ve got options. I don’t know what they are, but apparently I have them. More than one. Obscure right?
That’s what happens to me in therapy. I sit there and I formulate some words to attach to feelings, more feelings bubble up, more words surface and it all becomes a mess. Everything I try to reflect on and consider grows these spidery legs that crawl all over the rationale, creating this huge tangled ball of chaos.
Then I can’t speak. I can’t find an end to the threads to grasp and follow. I desperately search for a way to untangle just a small part, but the knot gets tighter each time I try.
That knitted confusion is so heavy. It is all consuming and always present. Every waking moment, a part of it is constantly attached to me; creeping into the most mundane thoughts and actions. I’m haunted by that chaos. And the haunting feeling overwhelms me. I become despondent because I observe it changing but it doesn’t give me a break. It never, ever dissolves.
The overwhelmed sensation is what triggers my suicidal thoughts the most. I end up feeling like life is only a long wait for death. Ahead of me there is an empty sea of years. So many years of being followed by fear and sadness from my past. Decades to live in my thoughts, to become ever more perplexed by questions I will never be able to answer.
I know that in my future there can be light; there will be love and fun and laughs that make my belly hurt. I’ll travel and soak up something of the beauty in this world. I will connect with incredible people who inspire me. There will be huge challenges I can conquer and I’ll learn and grow.
The obstacle is letting it all happen. It’s shaking the fear, despair and the disappointment. Letting go of trying to change people other than myself. And most of all, it is giving up on wishing for a different past.
So at the end of our session today, J reiterated that there are options. Yes, ending my life is one path I could choose. But it isn’t the only route open to me.
Photo: Nicolas Raymond, Creative Commons.