05 March 2011
From Soulless to Shattered
I've had a rather tough day. Luckily I had a couple of friends rescue my self-loathing ass. Hopefully the upped Risperdal is working like it's supposed to and the Wellbutrin will kick in soon.
I'm single, again. It wasn't pretty. I apparently have too much iron in my face (piercings) and too many tats (I only have 11 damn it), and I tried laying a guilt trip on him supposedly.
I only repeated what my counselors and friends had said: I ran back to him because of the fight with my friend and freaked out because I need to be loved by someone, even if part time. He didn't like that. He didn't like me telling him I felt cheated that he wasn't going to leave his wife either. Why I believed him this time, I'll never know.
I'll probably never hear from him again. That's too bad because I was loyal as hell to him and I'd have his back no matter what our relationship status is.
Being single wouldn't suck as bad if I was hot enough to have men lining up at the door to either a) give me multiple orgasms or b) love me the way I supposedly deserve to be loved. I don't see either happening. I is FUGLY and have no self worth so what respectable man is going to pick up on me?
The counseling this week sucked. At least I didn't cry this fucking time. Both spoke extensively about how my bantering on about the pain and torment I'm suffering in my little world pains and saddens the friends I rely on most to the point they pull or walk away. This is what happened last weekend.
It had me down to the point I was dreaming of dragging the razor blade across my skin to feel and watch myself bleed for relief.
The grief counselor asked me what it would take for me to gain self worth and I answered basically "getting at least one Ph. D. and getting "Heart of a Survivor" published, possibly with movie rights. She didn't like that.
In my mind - I would then have accomplished the level of education I am intelligent enough to do, even if it kills my bipolar, and I would have gotten the story of my hellatious life out and hopefully helped one person go from victim to survivor.
She "tasked" me to find something that's not external that gives me self worth. It's hard to find self worth when you see nothing in yourself. People tell me I'm intelligent. I say bullshit, look at my fuckin' grades. People say I'm a good writer, I say bullshit I'm mediocre at best. They say I'm creative, yeah but not as creative as the greats who I aspire to be like.
The few times I do find some sort of self value, the depression takes over and it goes away.
Thinking I'm intelligent is fleeting. Thinking I might have what it takes to write, is fleeting. Thinking I might have a chance at life outside of disability and an aging father, fleeting. Thinking I have what it takes to be one of the best wives in the world - fleeting. Dreams of multiple doctorates, books and travels - fleeting dreams that will never come to fruition.
So yeah, I'm not seeing much self worth within me at the moment. I feel alone, lonely and isolated at the same time, none of which are good for a bipolar.