Sometimes I find it impossible to reach out for help. This is something I've repeatedly beat myself up for. No more. I understand now why it's so hard for me. My mom and my grandfather, who loved me like a father (I thought) betrayed me in the basest ways, at my most vulnerable. so when I need some one, when I feel extremely vulnerable, no wonder I retreat and hide from everyone. I am trying to be safe.
Therapy last night was dreadful. A terrible, fully alive and breathing memory surfaced from all the sadness and despair I have been feeling. It was like vomiting a heartache. I put the memory in a separate wu today. I remember crying and crying about it when I was a kid. I obviously had suppressed a lot of it - the pain was so concrete and real last night. I hope this pain ends soon.
And I'm so disgusted with M. He is so awkward and literal some times. I can't understand why he is so fucking dense when it comes to figuring things out. I don't want contact with him, yet I do.
He wrote me a note after reading my wu, and could only relate it to his own fucking pain. As he has done over the past week. It's all about him, after all.
Well, I don't fucking care about your fucking pain right now! I'm living in a tunnel of darkness, residing in my own little Hell on Earth. I can barely take care of myself, I sure as fuck don't give a flying fuck about your motherfucking stupid pain that you can't even fucking remember!!! Idiot. I hate him. I hate my therapist for explaining traumatic transference. Like I care why I hate him!