So last night ended badly. I ran away again. At first I just sat outside on the deck but it was taking a stronger and stronger hold on me and I took off. Running away seems to be my MO. I scare myself when I get bad because I know what I’m capable of and running away seems to be the best thing. I tried texting my sister but what she was saying just wasn’t cutting it and so I didn’t damage her, I just stopped talking to her. Partway through my walk, I became so emotionally numb. Disconnected. Total dissociation. And so I just kept walking. I think I was walking for about 3 hours.
In hindsight, Im not sure how safe it is to run away. I mean it causes a lesser damage than staying in and potentially causing more severe damage to my relationship, or things. Throwing things, breaking things, putting holes in walls…things I’ve done In the midst of an episode. But I’m not sure I should be “out there” either if I’m mentally unstable. No telling what I’m capable of out there. Though I’ll be honest in saying that I was ready to die last night. And I didn’t care how.
I eventually went home. Changed my clothes and sat next to my boyfriend. The fear started to settle in the closer I got to my house and sitting next to him was almost unbearable. I wasn’t ready to face him. He didn’t say much. I asked if I could lay with him and he let me but it didn’t feel right. Every time he shifted or breathed I would scream in my head hoping that he’d shift and put his arm around me and just squeeze me. I know I messed things up but I was ready to need him again.
The night was awful. I barely slept and I was so sick over the whole thing. I thought for sure this was the end of us. This just had to be the final straw. How and why could he keep putting up with this? I came to work, still sick To my stomach over all of it and then I got a comment On my last blog post. It was him.
I couldn’t believe it. I started crying at my desk. Tears of relief I guess. I didn’t care. I’d been so numb and empty since last night that I’d kill for even sad tears. I finally could feel again and I needed it.
I don’t know how he loves me, but he does. So my point in writing this is so maybe when this all happens again, I can come back and read this and maybe it will help. I’ve tried this before but I’ll try it again. I’m a mess and why he chooses to be involved in that I will ever understand. But he is the only one, aside from my sister lately, who has taken a serious initiative to be openly involved and wanting to help and understand.
The saddest part about all of this, is that I know this illness will hurt me again. I don’t know when, but it will. That’s just how it goes. I’m ready for my new therapist and it’s hard to have hope but I really just want and need it to help me. I can’t live like this forever.