Half the time, I feel like a fraud. I am not a survivor. I am not what a survivor is. I am not strong. I am not brave. I feel like I can not go on, and that feeling is with me the vast majority of the time.
I had therapy today. And it was hard. Very hard.
And every single thing and every single minute of every single day, lately, feels like I am fighting a battle. It's like, watching the movie The Terminator. The character Sarah, she was under a constant barrage, almost every single minute, fighting for her life in fighting that terminator. All the terminator wanted, all it was programmed to do, was to terminate her.
And that's how it feels for me. I am in a constant battle, against myself. Against the trauma. Against my demons. A battle that, right now, has been waged against me by myself, the trauma, and my demons, a battle I have to fight just to keep me alive.
I have a stockpile of pills, and Dr K wants me to get rid of them. We had talked about me giving them to her last week.
She cannot take them. But there is a nurse down the hall who can. Dr K is arranging a time and will let me know when I can meet with her and the nurse to hand the pills in.
I don't want to hand them in. I mean, part of me does. But a bigger part of me doesn't.
I don't want to give up that option, for one thing. And if I don't have them, I don't have that option to use them.
We talked about a lot, and all of it today was painful. I told her that giving up the pills is like me giving up control. When she asked me about that, I hesitated. For a fleeting moment, I felt like she would think I was nuts if I told her about how I feel about control, and giving up control. But, she is a trauma therapist. I'm sure she's heard nuttier things. And I would think and hope that she would understand, or at least be able to see that what I say is valid.
The whole control thing, feeling like I have no control, and what gives me such huge anxiety when I feel like I have no control, is this: I had no control over a man who pulled me back behind a building, in the dark, and raped me. I had no control over a man who took me from the relative safety of my world, and cast me into a world of anxiety, anger, depression, shame, self hatred. And any other myriad of things I could list here.
Saying that outloud was hard for me. I actually cried like I haven't in a long time. I repress my tears as much and as often as I can.
But, when I feel I have no control, it takes me right back to those feelings from those two nights, and from all the times that man stared at me.
A whole lot more was discussed. Too much to go into right now, because I feel drained.
But, Dr K did spend some time trying to convince me that giving up those pills is a good thing.
One thing I did tell her, however, is that no one has the right to hurt me except myself. And that I should have the right to hurt myself whenever I want, and in whatever manner I choose to.
I am angry. Just the idea of giving up my pills makes me angry, let alone, feeling like I am being made to give them up.
And I would say right now that I hate myself. Because I do.
But I am too depressed to.