So, I had a terrible night. I couldn't fall asleep. I got up from my bed, angry at myself. I felt a lot of things which I wrote on the notebook. So I think letting my counselor read this blog would be better probably.
I didn't make it to work again. It bothered me a lot. Like I should just quit and stop being a burden at work, and at home. Yes, It's Friday 3.11pm. I don't know how to get through this weekend when I already feel the need to cut myself again. I think it's better to just do it, then to keep fighting it or distracting myself. It's exhausting to keep fighting my inner demons.
It's very ironic that I cut myself at home, to deal with my suicidal thoughts. Isn't this better then walking out of my house and trying to kill myself? I know there are other distractions, they simply never work when my thoughts starts drowning me.
I wished that I could have a session to look forward to, so that I could distract myself from what I want to do. But, it's 2 weekends away.
I was really grateful that my counselor was able to accept my rate, which I thank him by giving him a snack. It felt a little bit childish but it was just a small gesture that I wanted to do I guess.
He put his 2 palms together to thank me. It felt really odd to see that, and it really tug my heart a little. Not so long ago, I did that all the time, when I see the Venerables, when I see volunteers, or parents or students walking in for classes, and I do prostrations with them. I remember that I was mindful every day during that time. It reminded me of the buddha nature in him, in me. I remembered the practices that I did everyday which really anchored me.
I had enough energy and capacity then to deal with what is happening at home. My practice fell off, and I couldn't keep up or deal with my depression once I stopped. I forgot how important it was to keep to my practice.
He mentioned a group support, people who can surround me with good energy. I did used to have that.
I think the most important factor is that I should have maintain my own practice, but I fall off my routine. I always did have trouble focusing or keeping to routines, and constantly make poor decisions.
I woke up just now with my mom shouting from the window outside. I really hate it.
There are a few signs that that points to emotional abuse. I remember that I read about it some time ago, and then I realized, my tears usually just start falling once I start reading them. I would eventually just close the window, stop reading them, and block it.
I tried reading them yesterday again, and it feels painful to know when you start ticking every signs. It wasn't just 1 or 2 or 3 sighs that happen to me. It felt like I was ticking down a whole list of it.
Why I was being treated this way? It's like I never existed in the family. I was only there to see my parents hate each other, to act as someone in between them. They talk to each other through me, because they cant stand talking to each other, so I had to passed messages for them. I never mattered.
My existence is something that my mom regretted, which she told me to my face countless time.
I really don't think it matters if I died. Is it my depression talking? but it's a fact though, that I really didn't matter at all. Even during my worst time, my mom would step on me to make sure that it's worse.
My fiancé kicked me out after we just returned from our wedding shots from korea, he said I needed to leave because he was seeing someone else and that "she" didn't like that we were still living together. I went home with all my stuff feeling pained and in emotional distress, but my mom added insult to my injury. By saying that it was my fault that the relationship ended.
She started screaming because she hated all the clutter that I was bringing home and made me throw my stuff out. I just hauled them back myself because they were items that I really wanted to keep. I don't think I have ever felt so much physical pain in my entire life. I was just processing that I had broken up with my fiancé , I was processing the pain of knowing that he had been seeing someone else, but my mom couldn't stop screaming at me and blaming me. I could feel my blood rushing to my head, I couldn't breath, it felt like my physical body had been split into half. I was screaming in my head that, for just ONE moment in life, could she spare a thought for my feelings and what I was going through. I felt like I wanted to beg her to stop hurting me when I was already in pain.
It feels exhausting to write this all out. She kept asking me to find ways to get back with my ex. I really hate that. It didn't make sense to me to still get back together with my ex. Maybe it was my fault, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone like him, or anyone else for the matter.
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