Only One

I've had about 30 hours of sleep in the last 36 (thank you Nyquil). The few hours I've been up, I've been lost. I took the Nyquil after deciding last night that I was going to commit suicide but then, using a tactic I've used before, told myself I would wait until tomorrow and if I still felt the same, I would do it then. As I lay down, restless, anxious, angry, hurt....I fantasized about ways to do it. I have a lot of pills I can take. I sometimes hoard them...."just in case." But I know from experience, that overdosing doesn't really work and best scenario you end up with smiley shoes on the fourth floor of some cold, God-forsaken hospital for three days until you say the right things to get out. So I thought of other ways, in addition to the pills. I thought of the order in which I would take the pills. I thought of ways to build a "tent" for carbon monoxide poisoning. Perhaps a bag over my head, too. I would close the bedroom door. Trevor would never know. Nobody would find me until I was gone. Maybe I'd use my old, illegal, beat up car and drive somewhere and hide. But then I thought maybe the cops would see me and pull me over. Then I'd really be screwed. I even tried to figure out ways I could smuggle in my meds in case I did get arrested but that wouldn't work either: The meds would need time to kick in, plus they'd find me before I could die. I fantasized about using a big black sharpie to write "DNR" all over my arms and chest and even my forehead. I figured I'd probably have to do it on paper and then trace it since doing it in the mirror could prove difficult.

Every purpose I had to live, is leaving or dying. My fault for putting purposes on people, instead of myself, most would say.

But most wouldn't know I am no purpose. I have no purpose. I know, I know....and I've heard it all. My existence alone, changes the world. Yada...yada...yada...

Appeasement does not work for me.

All the work I've done on myself has been so honest and intentional.

But for naught.

I still have my pills hidden. (I hid them in case my therapist instructed my friend to hide them from me). I still have not gotten them out. I still haven't entirely changed my mind.

I have therapy tomorrow.

I have almost nothing to say.

I am so numb. So, so numb.

Voiceless, wordless, needless.

Nothing. Obviously.

Character Flaws

My Name is Cristina D. Johnson.

Had therapy today - she made me cry. The discussion was about me asking the question, how come all of "our friends" see what he's done (or know what he was doing) and they still just want to hang out with him, and haven't even reached out to me?

"I don't understand," I lamented.

"What would understanding, do for you?" she asked.

This is a question I took in and really thought on.

"That's a very profound question," I answered, as my eyes began to tear up. It brought up such immense pain, that I stuttered out the answer after a few moments of silent tears.

"Understanding why....would help me to know I'm not ugly or dirty or unworthy," I choked out.

Why? Why didn't anyone check on me? This has plagued me for months. I wondered, how could people want to be with someone who was so hurtful, so insensitive to me - their "friend" - in desperate need of help and compassion. How could they all abandon me in favor of someone who did such detrimental things to me at such a critical time? Why?

I couldn't understand it and it's hurt me.

"Has it occurred to you that it's not you, but them?" she asked.

No...it hadn't because of all the things he said about me. People just took his word for it and I know the picture painted of me would look like a painting dropped in mud. It hadn't occurred to me that the problem may be theirs.

"Relationships end," she said matter-of-factly.

I hadn't thought of that.

"Clearly [he] didn't have the tenacity to help you through the pain you're going through," she said, adding, "and maybe those 'friends' don't either. That's their problem - it's not your problem. It doesn't mean there's something wrong with you," she said. "Perhaps it's just part of their character flaws."

"Two suicide attempts is hard for some people to take," she said. Which I acknowledge, but have made as many apologies as possible for.

She remarked on Bill and Cindy and Hannah, saying how these are the kinds of people I need in my life: supportive, understanding, compassionate, patient.

"Bill is the kind of guy you need," she said. "He obviously truly wants to see you healthy and independent and he's proven it."

This, too, made me cry and I admitted to her that I - for a brief moment the other day, after blogging about him - allowed myself to believe I deserve to be treated the way he treats me; with kindness and consideration and respect and genuine love.

I have an event coming up. We talked about it briefly....I am a little nervous about it. She suggested, "So don't do it?"

"I already said yes," I responded.

"So why not back out? You've done it before with [Dee] and with Tony. Why not now?"

I began to cry again.

"Because if I step outside of my box, and my comfort zone [of conformity and complacency], then people will leave."

"So you're afraid if you step out of your box, people will leave you?"

Yes. If I don't do what I'm supposed to do, people will leave me.

What a terrible way to live...a terrible way to believe.

And that's how I've always been.