The taste never left me, and I don’t think it will
And it caused me to supplement whiskey with pills
But there was something inside that I couldn’t kill
Believe me, I really did try
Some say you get what you deserve, but they’re wrong
Sometimes you get what you’re given, and then it’s all gone
And you are lucky if you are sufficiently strong
To daily decide not to die
– The Sun’s Coming Over the Hill, Karine Polwart
I’m sick of this and I’m done with it. Best go back to the start then. As far start as last time I wrote here. I have the medicine, of course. Taking it every morning in secret, and it’s hurting me like hell. I don’t have a dog any more. He left last Saterday night, after I had one last cuddle. It hurt and it hurt to let him go and watch him leave and know how bad I was going to fall, but it was for the best. And all those other cliches that people say. Of course I miss him. It’s been over a week now. He’s not even that far away – he’s gone to live forever with a nice mother and daughter, an AU of myself and my mum. He’s going to be looked after. He’s going to have the life he deserves. I don’t even know why I tried to drag him into this mess with me. It’s a good thing he got out before I ruined his life too much. And I fell after his leave and I crashed hard.
We went to Cadbury world last Monday. Drove up Sunday night, slept in a hotel, and went to the chocolate factory in the morning, and then drove back home that night. Sounds simple. It wasn’t, unsurprisingly. First of all, this ‘holiday’ was sprung on us. So Dan and I were stressed and confused and, in my case, scared. Because I didn’t feel safe, going away with my abuser. No matter what he says now, or what he’s trying to prove, after 4 years I cannot just forgive him and I cannot just ‘deal with it’. And I should not be made to feel guilty with how I act towards him. In the end, we all went away together. Playing happy family. We’re really not. The factory itself was alright. Lots of chocolate, quite a few people, some hours spent there, wondering around, inside and out. We drove back in the night, eating ice cream. It was calm at that time. It’s not, it’s really not.
The couple of days at college, not attending lessons, passed by swiftly in anxiety and emptiness. Tuesday, I had a piano exam after college. Mum picked me up and took me to the school where I was to take the theory exam. I couldn’t. I couldn’t follow the other children, I couldn’t just walk through those school halls that reminded me so harshly of my own school times, the bullying and agonizing days I spent encased in walls like the ones at this school. The cleanliness also reminded me of the hospital, and that hurt me for another whole reason. How I wish to be back there. But that holds the same blame as killing myself; removing myself from the situation, whether temporary or permanently, letting others deal with it while I am in safety for the moment. The idea of selfishness surrounds both deeds, no matter that they are technically complete opposites from one another. How I wish, though, to be back in those sanitary halls, able to freely cry and not feel judged or hated or abused. To be able to be myself, the way that the illnesses have made me. To be accepted as who I am, and to be cared for and encouraged… but I can’t. I can’t. I want to, so badly, but I can’t. I feel I don’t deserve it, and I know that those around me would just back up that claim, not by believing the same reason, but by asking me to stay. I try. Oh God, I try.
Then, at the end of the week, after a day with Milly, who I hugged and closed my eyes and promised her that it was okay, and Toby was gone, and he was okay… after all that, on the Friday, we left for another ‘holiday’. I don’t know why, although I can guess. Anyway, I had to miss my secret psychiatrist appointment, so I just as secretly rescheduled it for next Tuesday; tomorrow. I don’t know if it’s the meds or everything – probably just life – but I’m aching all over and hurt and hurt some more. And I don’t mention it and I hurt, and then I hurt myself with fresh cuts on my arm all over again, like I did on Friday morning. Unable to deal with this any more. But we went away again, all together, and went to Weston Super Mare first, and went on the pier. It was alright, and we all walked around, and Dan and I did some stuff, and then we walked around the town a bit in the rain. And then we drove on to Wales. That night we stayed in a rather crappy hotel, and in the morning we went the rest of the way to Cardiff. There, we went to the Doctor Who exhibition. Something that was very, very special. At least, it used to be. I still love Doctor Who, but it’s changed too much for me to keep up, so I don’t watch it any more. I just reminisce about the old days, when Dan and mum and I sat down over dinner and watched an episode and enjoyed it. It meant the world to us back then. Nowadays enjoying anything is a distant fantasy.
Nevertheless, going through the Doctor Who experience, being frightened of the Weeping Angels, ducking away from Dalek’s exterminating warnings, helping the current Doctor in his quest with the crack, and seeing and trying to fly the Tardis… well, it was pretty good. Old memories fondly came back as we looks at the exhibits in the museum bit, and I took many pictures. Then, it was all over, and we looked around Cardiff a bit, and went in this place called Techniquest, which was basically ‘@t Bristol’ again, and it was crowded with children, so it wasn’t that fun for me. Amusingly, Dan enjoyed himself thoroughly, though, which was good. We left there at dinner time and found somewhere to eat, eventually. I ate soup and minimal food, spitting out anything else I dared try to swallow. And then, we finally headed back to the car and drove home, again stopping for an ice cream from McDonalds. I ate my ice cream and then dozed in tiredness, despite the fact it was barely 9pm. When we got back 2 hours later, I woke up enough to get ready for bed, and fell asleep again. I woke up in the morning after a stupidly long sleep, feeling aching all over and worse than ever.
Yesterday, after church, and the silence, and my usual hatred of myself because others were suffering or have suffered much worse, mum took me to the kennels to go dog walking. We walked a nice staffy cross who was friendly and just wanted to walk, then a lurcher which really didn’t want to walk, so we swapped him for a lurcher x greyhound dog who was very tall, and very bouncy. He had a headcollar, which I feel personally is very helpful on dogs, and also makes them look smart. Mum walked him most of the time, as she’s meant to, but I had a little time with the lead, too. Because dogs are trained on the left hand side, I had him on that side, and so really managed to injure my left arm again when he jumped up in response to a dog passing. So that hurts like hell now. Still, he was a lovely dog and we left the Shelter in a relatively alright air.
Today, I went into college after mum took me, and didn’t go to lessons. Again, didn’t even try. I am now just a lazy bitch, because I don’t even want to try any more. Why should I? Everything I try falls sooner or later. Although Sheri did come and talk to me on two occasions, I didn’t even attempt meeting her and going to lessons, and so gave up on staying there and left early, getting the bus home. Back, I found mum looking at a letter of my absences. She and I had a short talk from other ends of the sofa, and I was empty. Done. Emotionless. She’s hurt that I lied to her, and I know it hurts. I was just trying to protect her. The same with my medicine. I’m not going to tell her about that, because even though it’ll hurt more when she finds out, at least she’s had some time of peace, not knowing about it. Not having to take my burden. I know she’s my mother and I shouldn’t be protecting her, but she has so much to deal with. I can’t rely on people. I’m broken and I’m broken and I hurt and I’m tired. And I’m sorry, to everyone who fights. But I am just so, so done. But I don’t know what to do about it. Just… I don’t know. I’m empty.