I think maybe one of the worst feelings in the world is not being able to articulate how I feel, what I need, or what is happening in my brain. The part in The Matrix when Neo’s mouth disappears always makes me feel like I absolutely cannot breathe, I guess because I am all too familiar with having no voice. No ability to speak.
I had therapy today, and it was excruciating because I came to that place once again where I just could not put to words what I need to get out. It’s like math was for me in school. I have always struggled with math, and completely lost my way when they introduced letters in with numbers. (WHY, THOUGH?!) I just could. not. get. it. One parent tried to help, but that parent is an engineer and so their life was math, and at one point they said – albeit kindly, “I don’t understand what you’re not getting.”
Yeah. Same.
And that’s how this feels now. That’s how I feel about what’s going on inside my head. There are pieces missing. Something gets lost in translation. Work that ought to help some issues improve does not make a difference. It’s like putting money in a vending machine, having the machine accept the money, but then nothing happening when I enter the buttons to instruct the machine what I want in exchange for the money. The money goes in, but the goods do not come out.
I don’t know what’s wrong inside. I don’t know how to explain to others what I’m not getting. And, consequently, my helpers don’t know how to help me.
It’s crazy-making. I have deep fears about being incapacitated in some way that makes me unable to communicate while fully aware of everything that’s going on, and I’m fairly certain those fears are rooted in this very issue of being trapped inside with no apparent way out. And, after decades of being trapped to varying degrees, I am at a cliff of sorts. I want out of this hell.
And, yet ……..
If I didn’t believe, SOMEWHERE inside me, that there is more to me and to this life, I wouldn’t be in the pain I’m in. Somewhere I read something to the effect that suffering is basically caused by the conflict inside between reality and what could be. (I’m paraphrasing and not eloquently, but you get the idea.)(I hope.) Meaning ….. if I truly believed there was absolutely no hope for me, I wouldn’t be in this much pain over not being able to do what I need to in order to heal. I wouldn’t even be on the healing path. So, SOME part of me believes – or knows – there is more for me.
I guess it should also be said that I survived everything that made me this way in the first place. I did not survive all of that just to quit later on. Yes, things are hard. Unbearably so, at present. And, things have been hard for me before – and I lived through 100% of them and went on to brighter days.
I don’t really want to die. As my therapist said not long ago, “Something IN you needs to die, but it is not YOU. YOU do not need to be the price.” Yes. Something IN me needs to die….
Does Shame ever die? It hasn’t died in me, but I do know people and have read stories of people who say it did die in them.
Do phobias die? I personally have overcome other phobias, so …. yes. It’s possible.
Does trauma, and C-PTSD “die”? Again, it has not resolved within me – not yet – but there are people who have overcome the impact of trauma in their lives. PTSD is a disorder, which means ….. things can be re-ordered. (Right?) Neuroplasticity has demonstrated that the brain can and does change. Hardwired behaviors can be rewired. Well-worn neural pathways (e.g. core beliefs, default responses, etc.) can be replaced with new neural pathways. My mind can literally be changed. Am I discouraged that it has not changed “more” in the time I have put in immeasurable amounts of hard work? Yes. To the point of fantasizing about quitting life altogether. BUT … this (writing) right now is helping me remember (again) that this is not permanent. Who I am right now is not permanent. My situation right now is not permanent. This is not as good as it gets, and I have not reached a dead end. I am Tired. I am discouraged. I am frustrated, and I am mostly afraid.
I am afraid.
I am afraid I will never feel “normal.” I am afraid I will always have this crippling anxiety and this panic disorder. I am afraid I will always struggle with attachment issues. I am afraid I will never know what it’s like to truly trust or freely love. I am afraid I will never break free of self-defeating, subconscious behavior. I am afraid that I will miss out on what’s left of my life, as I have missed out on most of what I’ve been alive for thus far. I am afraid that I will never be able to be fully present for my own life. I am afraid that I will never finally know who I actually am, or be that person well.
I am afraid that I will die without having lived.
(Which begs the question: why would I consider guaranteeing it by putting an end to any chances I have left? If I am afraid of dying without living, why would I choose that very thing? ……… Maybe it’s about feeling powerless. Thinking about choosing to stop living provides me with some measure of (perceived) power…..)
Maybe I’m dying to live. Maybe the only way to live my life beyond survival is to go through the process of dying inside. What I mean by that is …. the pain won’t die without grieving. Avoiding pain is not the cure to pain, it just moves it around. Spreads it. Grief, the expression of loss, is the medicine. The pain IS the way out, not the obstacle to it.
Maybe writing to heal will actually bear fruit ….. stay tuned.
Anonymously Open 