From my journal written in September 2010, and posted in April 2012 as Struggle with Self-Hate
I cooked rice but I wasn’t able to eat breakfast. Called Karen. She said not to “shame & blame” myself, but of course I’m comparing myself to Diane who’s “glad to be alive”, who faced life-threatening illness and lost both breasts. That made me feel like I was just whining and complaining and feeling sorry for myself. But I can’t “snap out of it,” I can’t consciously will myself to be any different. So I just want to die. That’s how I felt yesterday, and no voice pops up & says “You don’t want to die, you just want your life to be easier.”
So here I sit, hating myself for being such a wimp. Somehow I’ve got to find a way to feel compassion for this poor woman who’s hating herself. OK, take a big step back. Here’s this woman who was traumatized in infancy, and taught as she grew up that every thing was her fault. Especially if she was having a bad time, she was told “You just want to be miserable.” She was given no guidance and support for how to live a healthy life. She struggled for years against debilitating bouts of depression and anxiety. She got married, only to find that she was unable to be sexual, blaming herself until years after the divorce when she found out she was struggling with PTSD. Now she’s getting older, and has less and less energy. When she’s depressed, even the basics of buying and cooking food and walking the dog become difficult. She just wants to die, and she hasn’t any energy to fight that either.
This is the kind of thing that is worth reading when I go back and read through my blog. Yes, this really happened, I really did feel this way. But 10 years later, I haven’t felt as bad as this in quite a while. I have felt discouragement and despair, I have felt that it would be a relief if I died, but then I think of Mocha and a couple of friends who would really miss me if I died, and I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and try not to expect myself to do more than I can.