2008-04-01 - 7:13 p.m.
Jack Finally Sees His Therapist (2)
Please read the entry before first
Continued....
She knows things I did not even tell my therapist.
She was there when my therapist was not.
She was there when I was left to my own devices.
And had I been left alone with them, without anyone's knowledge, concern or reality checks, I just might have run off and done something dangerous, crazy or both.
It was not a cry for help.
I just wanted someone to know.
I don't know where my mind was.
I still don't.
Somewhere between destructive fantasies and a changing reality that I do not know how to accept or deal with.
By the time I saw my therapist, I had walked down from my ledge but was not really dealing with anything either.
I spent most of the session talking.
Catching her up on the last few weeks of my life.
As far as I had lived it anyway.
A lot of this has been going on in my head.
I felt like all she could really do was listen and remind me that none of this was my fault.
Slowly I am starting to realize that, but it does not help me deal with things any easier.
You can not just explain everything away.
Even when you explain my sins away, part of me is still screaming that somehow you are wrong. As much as I want to believe you, you all are wrong. Somehow. You have to be.
That is how much of a mindfuck this really is.
I am not in denial, but somehow I can not really believe this either.
It took me a minute, but I can see that she is not making sense anymore. That she has become an irrational danger to herself. And possibly to me.
My pillar of stability is crumbling and falling down on top of me.
She wants and expects me to break her fall.
But somehow, I still want her to be right.
No matter how my therapist puts it, there is no way to feel good about losing the closest person you have ever known, to increasing insanity.
How am I supposed to just accept this because it is not my fault. Clear my conscience of guilt and anxiety because there is nothing I can do. For once, I have to put myself first.
I can not take care of her.
I can not catch her.
I can not save her.
I can barely take care of myself.
I could never live with her. Not like this.
But I felt like I had to.
This was more than I can handle.
I told my therapist I was thinking of letting her move in. Letting her have my life. Then I was going to leave. Run away. Fight Club style. Leave everything I have ever known. Everything I ever owned. Almost everything I ever owned anyway. There are always those things.
One night I was going to just disappear.
She would be taken care of.
I would be free.
And it would be over.
Just like in my dreams.
I would start walking and I would not stop.
I would probably keep my job for a while.
I would find somewhere to live and squat.
Eventually I would take a plane and leave the state.
It would be like suicide. Only without actually dying.
Though I was thinking of that too. Though I did not talk about it with my therapist. Not in context to this anyway. Not when I sound this unhinged and unstable.
I can not explain the way imagining putting a gun to my head makes me feel.
For now, these thoughts are tucked away with my other destructive fantasies/things to.
I enjoy them like sexual fantasies.
They do not get me off, but I think about them with as much relish.
They are my concealed weapons. Never under estimate me. Never think you know what I would and would not do.
This is another thing I did not tell my therapist. Though she has observed that I flirt with self destruction.
When I told her I was thinking of abandoning my life, so my sister could have it, she gave me a good analogy.
On an airplane, they say when the oxygen masks come down, put yours on immediately. Do not give it to your lover, your child, your mother, the stranger next to you. Save yourself first, so you can save someone else.
She explained that by letting her move in, when I can not handle or take care of her, I would not be saving her. We both would go down. She guaranteed she would get worse, and I would follow. Sacrificing myself for her would not save or help her.
Leaving would not do anyone any good.
I would be leaving one hell of a mess behind. But like someone selfishly suicidal, I honestly did not care. My life was going to be about me for once. Everything I left behind was as good as dead. I took care of my loose ends the best I could. I am free to go.
My therapist told me outright, that squatting would be a stupid idea.
As stupid as letting her move in,in the first place.
I stated that I would only have to worry about food, water and shelter now. As well as self defense. I would have a gun.
She said that I would not make it.
I would get sick. My health would go down. I would go insane from not having anyone who cared about me, and lack of human contact.
Maybe part of me wants to go insane. Maybe part of me has had enough of human contact.
I think I would go more insane from not having access to the internet.
Not having my coffee and all my stupid comforts.
Honestly I was only going to raw squat in the urban wilderness for a while. What I would go for, would be something closer to Fight Club.
But it doesn't matter right now.
Later I will write more in depth, about all of this. I am writing it as it comes.
My therapist reminded me that I could not just throw my life away. I might not see it, all the time, but there is a lot that I am lucky for. There is a lot that is delicately balanced and strangely working for me, in a way that might not work at all for someone else. She said that my life is actually pretty simple. I took the compliment and said I try to keep it as minimal as possible.
She said all of my anxiety is over worrying about the loss and destruction of my life as I knew it. My life as I really want it. Self destructive games aside.
I asked if I should up my medication.
I am starting to feel like I did before I started taking medication.
I have felt exhausted and sick. I can not sleep. I have sudden pressure in my temples and dizziness. The panic attacks are back. I am just not coping with this. I am craving that paxilated feeling.
While I do not want any more chemical codependancy, I feel like this is more than 20 miligrams can handle.
She said she doesn't think I need to. I just need to realize that my life is not ending.
Right now, I do not think I can be complacent with everything happening. Maybe I am not being run out of my home, but my life is definitely changing.
It is just hard to deal with this.
My life is falling apart a little at a time.
And I have to stay strapped into this ride all the way down.
Jack Has Had Enough - 2008-06-20
Jack Is Tired Of The Human Condition - 2008-04-11
What Jack Should Be Doing And Where He Should Be - 2008-04-11
Jack Finally Sees His Therapist (2) - 2008-04-01
