My sense of myself has been all over the place in the last few days.
A nagging voice in my head keeps telling me to go and get an appointment with my GP about the state of my mental health, because my urges to self-harm have been coming back with a vengeance, and I really feel like I need someone to talk to following the news of my mum’s post-natal depression. I feel like this may be the beginning of an answer to the question “Why on earth am I scoring through the roof on the emotional deprivation schema when nothing is wrong?” that came up when I first accessed therapy in university.
But I am not registered with the local surgery any more because of changing to university, and it just seems too difficult to go and sort it out. I know I should, but I keep thinking of all the problems there will be. They’ll need information that I won’t have, and then I’ll probably not be able to get an appointment until all the paperwork goes through, and then I’ll have to go back and book an appointment which won’t be available for ages, and by that time I’ll probably have talked myself out of wanting to go anyway, and then suddenly everything will flare up again and I’ll be no nearer getting help at all.
But I still keep thinking I should go and sort it out.
My godmother has found out that her cancer has returned, very aggressively. She has it in her brain and her bones. She initially had breast cancer. Just like my mum. And now I can’t stop thinking about how, in twenty years time, will this be my mum? Will I get a text telling me all of this? I want to be strong, I want to be positive, I want to hope for the best, I want to be doing all the right things and managing to keep up with my own life as well. I want to be the same as I was when Mum had cancer, I want to just get my head down and deal with it.
But I can’t. I am a completely different person now, almost 5 years on.
I can’t cry about it. Well, I can, but only when I delve into really serious channelling, which helps for the anxiety and crushing sadness but doesn’t sort anything out in the cold light of day. Now, I know logically that worrying doesn’t help, that I can’t transfer this situation onto the future of my mum, and even if I did it wouldn’t help, and it wouldn’t change anything and you can’t change the future or predict it or spend your life worrying about it or stop your present just thinking about what the future might hold. But logic does FUCK ALL FOR ME when I can’t stop thinking about it no matter how much I want to just accept it and move on.
I wouldn’t choose to be this way.
I keep trying to think: I can’t control this, I have tried to communicate it but my parents are very emotionally closed-off, another reason why I should try and make that appointment just to have somebody to talk to. I can adapt to it by being supportive of my mum and compassionate towards myself, but that doesn’t solve anything, and then finally I can accept that I can’t solve this.
I can’t bear not being able to make this right.
Last night I fell asleep stroking my hair and telling myself hundreds of times all of the things I give myself permission to do: I give myself permission to cry, to care, to love, to forgive, to feel, to worry, to not know what to do, to be weak, to be strong, to live, to dream, to try, to fail, to make mistakes, to try again, to not understand, to be lost, to find myself again.
It’s laughable that I want to go into mental health in education. I can’t even deal with myself and my own life. I try and pretend, I go looking for courses and information and preparation, and it’s all just covering up the fact that I’m running away from my own problems and trying to fix someone else’s. Because that will give me permission to exist, a reason to feel worth something, a purpose to block out that instinct to hurt myself and punish myself for not being… enough, not being wanted, not being hugged and kissed and cuddled and played with and loved. And that’s changed massively, but that deprivation happened when it mattered, and I still feel this deep chasmic ache of loss. And I can’t deal with it any more.
I guess I should get round to making that appointment.