Hey, Miss J!

Time: 2:40PM

Date: May 9, 2022

So… my therapist didn’t reach out to me at all. I’ll be honest, it makes me feel like I’m not important enough to deal with.

I thought I had gotten to a point in my life where I wouldn’t feel so miserable anymore.

Go figure. I have not.

Sometimes I wonder if it was ever a good idea to publicly share my feelings with anyone. My writing was enough for years… aside from just a channel for ideas, I had other blogs that I used when my moods were terrible.

The content of them was painful to relive… just like it was for my actual diary. So I deleted them… and ran my diary pages through a shredder.

Who would want to remember what I’ve experienced?

Writing about my problems should help, right? But it never seems to bring any lasting relief. It doesn’t erase the underlying cause of my suffering.

Under everything, I’m why I am the way I am.

Unwanted.

Pathetic.

And a waste of space.

I’ve been wondering for some time if I should go along with my doctor’s suggestion for treatment. She says more meds, but I’m on the safest single a day dosage for my medication. If I need more help, I’ll have to take two pills a day. Or completely change my prescription to something that my mother was on. Her condition was far worse than mine, but does that matter?

The drugs would completely destroy my ability to dream or imagine… but considering what I’m going through, would that be such a bad thing? Maybe if they give me enough, I won’t feel anymore…

I thought I was getting better, even went back to writing for NtC, a story that I really fell in love with.

… I can’t forget that underneath it is a desire I’ve always had to finally be happy. To have a partner, someone who saw what I was beneath the façade I’ve show to so many – and loved me anyway.

I’ve never had joy that lasted more than a few days… then it would just evaporate through my fingers.

I’ve never had that… save a horrible facsimile of a relationship. I thought I was unlovable… and I’m sure now that is the case.

I haven’t really liked who I saw in the mirror for years.

Maybe I’m good at pretending to be fine? I’ve been neglecting my body and home for weeks and no one has noticed.

Was I important enough for anyone to see?

I need to sleep. Maybe that will help?

Why would I bother to post this? Why document my pain? I hope that anyone who reads this gets help before they get to my state.

Being unaware of anything would be a blessing to me at this point.

Oh… and I was invited to a wedding. I never should have gone. It took me nearly 2 days to figure out what was wrong with me.

~ Miss J