I have so many good friends, a caring tutor and loving family.
But I am unable to even mention my secrets to them. The words don't come. I skate around the issue. Even when I'm breaking down and I'm unable to get out of bed because I am so scared of the world, so frightened, so vulnerable... I cannot say it. I cannot admit the extent of what happened. Many of my friends know what happened, many of them offered me help. But I am ashamed to admit how much it hurts. "Oh but that was months ago!" for them, a distant memory. For me, an ever present reality.
I want help, I need help. But I cannot ask for it.
Even reading back this blog, I feel a frustration at my inability to express myself.
It's like procrastinating for an exam. You busy yourself with the little things, and you tell yourself you are making progress. Whilst you are not studying for the exam, you are still being "useful", e.g. cleaning your room/ doing your groceries ect. Meanwhile the deadline for the exam gets ever closer. And the closer the deadline is, the harder it is to start. The amount of work that you have to do to prepare yourself for the exam is so big, and it gets bigger and bigger, until you either panic study the night before the test, or you decide to give up.
This analogy seems to fit with my recovery process. I feel like my mind is slowly waking up from the shock of what happened. And I really cannot deal with it. So little symptoms of the real problem start to develop. Depression, anxiety, eating disorders. Okay, lets try and get healthy first. Yes, I managed to go out and go to class today! I did something "useful"! I am slowly getting better!
But deep within myself I know I am not. In fact its getting worse. And I am scared. Because inevitably there will be a 'deadline.' Either I get help. Or I break.