I’m in an unsafe place today.
I don’t feel I will do anything, but I don’t feel I should be alone.
My heart is heavy and I feel like all that will help is to cry, the kind of crying where the sobs are guttural and uncontrollable.
My babies are due home in a couple of hours.
I wanted to be more like my old self again before they came home, but that expectation is out of reach.
All I can give them is the broken person I have become. No further into my recovery from when they left on Thursday.
I hate this weakness that has found me. It’s not who I was but I don’t know how to get back to that person I used to be.
I won awards for being an inspirational woman. I gave talks telling people how I had triumphed under adversity. Now I can’t even be left in my own home without a minder in case the darkness overtakes me again and I try to hurt myself again.
And the truth is I do. I want to score lines across my right arm. Because my broken brain tells me that if I have scars there too it will be enough to move on and put the past behind me. But I know really that that won’t be enough. Nothing will be enough to sedate the darkness in my head.
I feel I should be institutionalised away from all I love so I don’t infect them with my toxicity.
Right now I feel I’ve failed at life and it cannot progress from here to a healthier place.