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From my old blog
May. 17th, 2004 01:44 pmI don't know how to ask for help, I don't know what to ask for.
How can I tell anyone that I am lonely beyond belief, that I am afraid I will always be alone, that the love and companionship of friends while so precious to me cannot fill the emptiness of love in my life. I know that I am loved, but at the end of the day I am alone, and I lay in my bed imagining someone is beside me, pressed against me, warm and intimate, their arms and legs and breath tangling with mine, and when I wake up in the morning someone will smile because they are waking up beside me, and whatever else their day holds I will be at the end of it. As good as my imagination is though, I have yet to conjure that person.
How can I tell anyone that I believe I am always running madly just ahead of being caught, being found out, being exposed for a big phony. I asked friends to describe me once, and I was told "you are beautiful, strong, inspiring, fun, infectious, brave, demanding, acquisient, humourous, tender, gentle, angelic, passionate, determined, flexible, independent, divine, graceful, funloving and fun creating". How can I confess that I am always afraid that the world will discover this isn't true? Sometimes I am running so far ahead that I believe I will never be found out, I can almost believe in the character I have created, and then there are times like now when I can feel discovery nipping at my heels and I'm so tired.. so very tired of pretending...
How can I tell anyone that I am awake most of the night, pacing in my flat, standing in my shower until the water is icy cold, listening to music, trying to stop the jangle in my brain... wanting to sleep, to not think, to not feel. I fall asleep in the quietest hours of the morning and dream of flying, of being someone else, of dying, of being unburdened and free and safe.
How can I tell anyone the only time I stop thinking and feeling and jangling is when I sit with the razor blade and watch my blood trickling from the cuts, the three or four or five shallow cuts that I need for enough blood to stop thinking and feeling and jangling. How I try to sit with the rivulets of blood patterning my skin for as long as possible, till it is nearly black and flakes when I move, and when I finally wash it away I feel that I am washing my soul clean again, for a little while at least.
If I tell these things, what then? None of this can be mended or ameliorated by any of my friends. Sharing it doesn't make it go away, quite the opposite in fact, it gives it a bigger life, a greater existence, it doesn't make it smaller or an easier burden.. sharing it gives it greater power, it becomes this thing that is always there, always known, always in the eyes of the person who knows. It makes me vulnerable. I lose my safety barrier. If someone else knows all of this and everything else then I can never again feel that I have control of how I am perceived.. it will never matter how much I tapdance, they will still know what's behind the sparkle.
And ask for help, what do I ask for? Ask someone to love me? To make me believe in myself? To help me to sleep? To give me a reason to not pick up the blade? I cannot ask that of anyone, and not just because there is noone who can give me those things. Even if they could, what value would any of it have if I don't achieve it for myself? Do I ask for someone to wrap me in their arms and patiently let me cry for an hour, rubbing my back and telling me everything will be okay, that they love me and they're there for me? I could find someone to do that, but are they going to be there for me in the quiet hours when I am most lonely, or are they going to be tucked up in bed with their beloved? Will the memory of being held and feeling safe enough to cry in someone's arms while they murmur comfort make me feel better in those quiet hours when i am alone again? or will it just sharpen the teeth of my loneliness? And what if I start asking and don't know when to stop? What if I become a burden and a source of resentment? Will I feel better then?
I might not be able to make myself feel any better, any happier or less lonely, but neither can anyone else and I at least can make sure that i don't feel more vulnerable, frightened, depressed, more alone. Sometimes that just has to be enough.
How can I tell anyone that I am lonely beyond belief, that I am afraid I will always be alone, that the love and companionship of friends while so precious to me cannot fill the emptiness of love in my life. I know that I am loved, but at the end of the day I am alone, and I lay in my bed imagining someone is beside me, pressed against me, warm and intimate, their arms and legs and breath tangling with mine, and when I wake up in the morning someone will smile because they are waking up beside me, and whatever else their day holds I will be at the end of it. As good as my imagination is though, I have yet to conjure that person.
How can I tell anyone that I believe I am always running madly just ahead of being caught, being found out, being exposed for a big phony. I asked friends to describe me once, and I was told "you are beautiful, strong, inspiring, fun, infectious, brave, demanding, acquisient, humourous, tender, gentle, angelic, passionate, determined, flexible, independent, divine, graceful, funloving and fun creating". How can I confess that I am always afraid that the world will discover this isn't true? Sometimes I am running so far ahead that I believe I will never be found out, I can almost believe in the character I have created, and then there are times like now when I can feel discovery nipping at my heels and I'm so tired.. so very tired of pretending...
How can I tell anyone that I am awake most of the night, pacing in my flat, standing in my shower until the water is icy cold, listening to music, trying to stop the jangle in my brain... wanting to sleep, to not think, to not feel. I fall asleep in the quietest hours of the morning and dream of flying, of being someone else, of dying, of being unburdened and free and safe.
How can I tell anyone the only time I stop thinking and feeling and jangling is when I sit with the razor blade and watch my blood trickling from the cuts, the three or four or five shallow cuts that I need for enough blood to stop thinking and feeling and jangling. How I try to sit with the rivulets of blood patterning my skin for as long as possible, till it is nearly black and flakes when I move, and when I finally wash it away I feel that I am washing my soul clean again, for a little while at least.
If I tell these things, what then? None of this can be mended or ameliorated by any of my friends. Sharing it doesn't make it go away, quite the opposite in fact, it gives it a bigger life, a greater existence, it doesn't make it smaller or an easier burden.. sharing it gives it greater power, it becomes this thing that is always there, always known, always in the eyes of the person who knows. It makes me vulnerable. I lose my safety barrier. If someone else knows all of this and everything else then I can never again feel that I have control of how I am perceived.. it will never matter how much I tapdance, they will still know what's behind the sparkle.
And ask for help, what do I ask for? Ask someone to love me? To make me believe in myself? To help me to sleep? To give me a reason to not pick up the blade? I cannot ask that of anyone, and not just because there is noone who can give me those things. Even if they could, what value would any of it have if I don't achieve it for myself? Do I ask for someone to wrap me in their arms and patiently let me cry for an hour, rubbing my back and telling me everything will be okay, that they love me and they're there for me? I could find someone to do that, but are they going to be there for me in the quiet hours when I am most lonely, or are they going to be tucked up in bed with their beloved? Will the memory of being held and feeling safe enough to cry in someone's arms while they murmur comfort make me feel better in those quiet hours when i am alone again? or will it just sharpen the teeth of my loneliness? And what if I start asking and don't know when to stop? What if I become a burden and a source of resentment? Will I feel better then?
I might not be able to make myself feel any better, any happier or less lonely, but neither can anyone else and I at least can make sure that i don't feel more vulnerable, frightened, depressed, more alone. Sometimes that just has to be enough.
