Therapy session yesterday:
“It’s like the stages of grief keep on repeating themselves, I don’t get it.”
“Well, I get it, it’s really hard to grieve someone who isn’t really dead, because you hear from him or about him and know that he’s really alive.”
I don’t wish he was dead, most of the time, I just want to go back to a time where I didn’t remember what his voice sounded like, or any other piece of information that is useless now, just painful every time I remember it.
We were talking about TMS, another intervention for people whose depression hasn’t been responsive to medications. That changed yesterday. I showed her the evidence in pictures that an manipulative, cruel, vindictive person has the one thing I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for 6 years. I don’t claim to deserve anything good for myself either but hey, as long as people are getting things they don’t deserve, where’s the line?
I told her I’m not dumb, everyone else isn’t happy all the time, but why can’t I be happy some of the time? I confessed that if it wasn’t for my parents, I’d already be making plans to stop my breathing.
I told her, from the rock bottom that was my life yesterday, that I didn’t care about the needles involved in shock therapy anymore. I didn’t care about any freak accidents. Forget TMS, let’s go right for the big step, I literally have nothing to lose.
And hell, if there’s some type of anything that’s fair in the universe, if there’s a just god or gods (Don’t believe in God, not for me at least), then i’ll have that memory loss.
I dont really care how that sounds. That i’m taking the coward’s or the weakling’s way out. I don’t want to remember his name. or the good times. or the bad times. Or how the good wasn’t enough for him to stick around and see if I’m even still breathing.
If i manage to forget any of him, it’ll be worth all the needles, all the possible unpleasant side effects.
I just don’t want to mourn him anymore.