Today is a tough day.
You cannot possibly imagine how much I hate myself. I wish I could explain it; how every day I hate myself that little bit more.
I know I make mistakes and I know I make people angry with all the mistakes I make. I don’t mean to make mistakes. I know that people think that I just forget about the mistakes I make or that I do not care, but here is what they don’t know; I know that I am not good enough. I know that I let people down because I am not strong enough to cope with this right now. I know I screw up and I hate myself for it.
I don’t need enemies – I have myself.
I hate myself. I hate that I am not strong. I hate that I cannot just forget the abuse and betrayal. I hate that I make mistakes. I hate that I am not the person that everyone wants me to be.
I lay in bed at night thinking about the mistakes I’ve made. I lay there wondering what is wrong with me. Did my parents make me this way with their abuse or was I always a mistake? Because that is how I feel today; like a mistake. In fact I feel like that most days right now.
I constantly feel like I am at war with myself. One minute I am fighting to survive. The next minute I don’t deserve to survive. I can’t escape myself.
I hate my depression. I hate the way it makes me feel so worthless and useless. I hate the way it tells me that I should die because I am a bad person. I hate the way it controls me.
I hate my anxiety. I hate the way it makes me feel scared and vulnerable. I hate that it tells me that no matter where I am my abuser will find me and hurt me.
I hate my PTSD. I hate the way it reminds me of everything he did. I hate that it turns an accent, a smell, a place all into triggers and sends me flashbacks. I hate that it won’t let me forget.
I hate that my head is a horrible place to be right now and that I don’t want to be me anymore. But how can I run away from myself?
Every day is harder. Every day is a nightmare progressing on; a memory, a flashback, a police interview, a police meeting, a looming arrest date, more emotions and me struggling to cope.
I’m a mess. My body full of scars. I already hate myself so what’s another cut right?! At least it takes the pain away; at least it punishes me for my mistakes. After all I am a mistake.
Maybe I should never have told what he did; it has only made me worse, made me feel weaker. But then I think about the other children he may have hurt and I realise it is my responsibility to stop him. I have no choice. I could not live with myself knowing I gave up and he hurt someone else. It is my responsibility.
No-one understands. Unless you have been there you cannot understand. You can never understand the weight of knowing that I am the only one who can stop him or of knowing that if I don’t follow this through that he may get away with it. You cannot understand the feeling of knowing that he is the cause of my illnesses and that I cannot control them so he still has control over me. You cannot understand the guilt of being a failure because I make mistakes or let people down.
Here is the thing; I am sorry that I am not strong. I am sorry that I make mistakes. I am sorry that I screw up. I am sorry that I am a mess. I am sorry that sometimes I am a rubbish friend or wife or family member. I am sorry that I let people down. I am sorry that this ever happened and that I am struggling with this. I am just sorry and I hate myself more than anyone else ever could.
You see, I don’t love me, so I can completely understand if you don’t want to love me either. Every single day I begin to hate myself a little bit more and here is the thing….it is OK if you hate me because I hate me too.
I don’t need enemies…..
I already have myself.
Thanks for reading.
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