This afternoon I was told to make a decision; to go to French lessons or not.
In that question, and the follow ups that came after, my emotional health fell apart in such a dramatic fashion that I find myself sat in bed in floods of tears, suddenly remembering how empty, how painful and how hopeless depression feels.
Since that question I have felt the cogs in my head that had seemed eased back together, maybe not oiled but working, suddenly sticking, falling out of place and being chewed up by other machinery. In mere hours.
Started by that question, that wasn’t really a question because in reality it seems I cannot go to the lessons because of my anxiety, suddenly every evil has come out to haunt me all over again.
I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole and seem to have landed in my Livi’s Inferno. Old wounds re-opened, pain that hurts so much inside I can’t breathe. Pain that hurts so much I need to cut, to make it hurt outside, because that’s easier, because that’s pain that mends.
Here I am seeing improbable scenarios as if they are fact; the ass hole returning with his whore having been called by my mother. Reliving points in my life that I want to forget; seeing my Dad in that funeral home, feeling unwanted people touching me, hiding in a school library away from taunts and worse.
Because ultimately, it never goes away. No amount of meds, or talking, or self study or “stability” will stop that pain, will stop it reappearing, will stop it consuming me all over again as if it were happening right now. There will be times of remission, where I get to pretend that I can function like a normal human being, but at the end of the day this will be my life. One battle to the next. One excruciating, soul destroying battle after another until that dark, ill, broken side wins and I lay bleeding out on the battlefield.
Which does beg the question; when are they legalising voluntary euthanasia?