This week I have been obsessing over my stuckness. My sense of being in the middle of something with no space to move. I don’t want my past, and I can’t envision my future. But right now feels horrible and I don’t want to be in this place forever.
I made a mistake in looking back at what I’d written this time last year. I can’t believe that it is all exactly the same stuff. The same feelings, the same thoughts, the same all-consuming cyclical conversations with myself.
Reading my post from a year ago today brought this all home for me. I could have written this word for word all over again right now. So instead of doing that, I’ll just share what I wrote back then. It’s still pertinent. It’s all still churning in my mind.
Nothing in this has changed. Nothing at all. And knowing I still feel just like I did a year ago is like a massive punch in the gut. I’ve tackled over a hundred hours of therapy since then, and I’m still grappling with the same issues. How could I not feel despondent about that?
5th May 2016
I am totally stuck in therapy . Even though I’m having three sessions per week, I still feel like I’m just circling the drain. I’ve drilled into myself this concrete message that I can’t be helped, and I am stubbornly clinging to that belief.
I read a thought-provoking post today about being the victim in the drama triangle. The full piece is over at Mental Health Today if you’re interested. In particular, I identified with this passage:
A Starting Gate Victim (SGV) has accepted a definition of themselves that says they are intrinsically damaged and incapable. SGV’s project an attitude of being weak, fragile, or not smart enough; basically, “I can’t do it by myself.” Their greatest fear is they won’t make it. That anxiety forces them to be always on the lookout for someone stronger or more capable to take care of them.
These lines summarise succinctly how I feel. I feel so broken, so beyond repair, that I firmly believe I am not capable of saving myself. Today, all I could say to J was that I don’t want to be an adult anymore. I want to drop everything I am responsible for, ignore all those pressures, and just be taken care of. I want the simplicity of childhood; in that most problems are fixed with a cuddle and forgotten about a few moments later.
At the same time, I can’t connect with J. I wonder whether maybe I don’t want to. I can barely even look at her, and the words just don’t materialise when she asks me a question. I’ve also noticed this angry feeling rising and falling in our sessions. I’m not sure what it ties into; but I’ve a hunch I’m angry with her and with all the other ‘helping’ professionals who delve into my life. Because I know, deep down, that they can’t fix anything for me. I have to do that myself and I simply don’t want to.
I can’t force myself into wanting to be whole again. I can’t face everything I’d have to confront in order to get there. So I am left with futility, with feeling sub-human. I feel so very abnormal, because I observe everyone around me doing life, wanting life, and not striving to destroy themselves. I am reminded of my abnormality when I see the scars I’ve left on my own skin. They ensure I know in every moment that I am disturbed, I am ‘intrinsically damaged and incapable’.
Out in the world, I get this sense of being a black and white figure in a colour photograph. I am out of place in my surroundings. I see what normal is and I am not it.
Photo: Jo Naylor, Creative Commons.