Lack of Fulfillment Is the Theme of My Life

I had a satisfying therapy session today but every other area of my life has no resolution.

I’m tempted to write about the other areas of my life because I can’t get it off my mind, but I want to get therapy out of the way first.

This is a new therapist. I did not bring up my health issues when I met her because bringing it up led to problems with past theraists — they’d become hyperfocused on it or whatever. I thought, I’m going to go in with this new therapist and just talk about life.

Today, I explained to her that I was having some trouble focusing and thinking and it unravelled. She wanted to know about my health issues. It is always a nerve-wracking and painful experience to explain to people. But somehow the right words came out of me. And she understood because she has a friend with Lupus. Magic. And she understood how hard it is to tell people about it, how that alone leads to psycological problems. Shame. She called it shame, because that’s her thing. But like a good therapist, she understood what that means on a deeper level. I don’t want to get too excited, but it seems like she might be able to through the long-term trauma of having a chronic illness for much of my life.

I also felt somewhat satisfied in the clarity I had when I realized that I have a fear of feeling pride because I feel it puts me in danger of letting my guard down and relaxing. And in reality, I can’t let my guard down, at least not at this point in my life. I.e. I can’t celebrate, the battle never ends. I have all these unsolvable problems I have to solve — like how am I going to get through a work day? how am I going to afford anything? what am I going to do if the only thing that seems to bring fulfillment in my life are people who destroy my life and leave me traumatized? should I talk to them? what happened to my life? should I try a new doctor or test, see if that gets me somewhere? how can I turn life into one that I want to experience?

Photo by sebastiaan stam on Unsplash

That’s why the rest of my life seems to have no resolution. At least things felt on-the-right track in therapy. The rest of life –ugh– I get no fulfillment. I accomplished some things mentally, philosophically, and even healthwise, I guess. But it still feels like I’m in the same place as if nothing really got done.

I did manage to get some good pictures of myself (I look horrible in all my pictures), but it was more depressing than anything because I became more aware of my features, and, I don’t like them. I guess I thought that if I never looked in the mirror I could just imagine that I looked great and never end up nitpicking my appearance. It backfired because I never managed to feel good about myself. And no decent boys ever asked me out, maybe because I looked like I didn’t take care of myself. Or maybe if they did ask me out, they would’ve helped me feel like there was something good about me. Anyway, I’m not sure what to do about this realization even though I do have some okay pictures now. Okay, it did take 3 days and lots of hours of taking pictures to get them, so some part of me probably realizes that this is very little rewards for a huge amount of effort and is let down more than anything, hence this discouraged feeling today.

And my hair, god, my hair. What am I going to do with it? I have no idea.

Portrait photograph of a woman. Photo by hatham on Unsplash

After looking at my pictures, it hit me why so many creepy old men hit on me but I never get hit on by people who aren’t creepy or aren’t super-old. It’s not the types of people who hit on me so much as the audacity. They really just talk to me like I’m some easily accessible hunk of meat that’s just desperate for “love”. They act really confident. (To be fair, some people only learned how the world works from watcing porn and they genuinely believe you just walk up to a woman asking for sex like that.) No, if I wanted to engage in superficial sex with someone, you’d hope I could find someone my own age who also has some superficial appeal.

Well, other than therapy, I did have one thing happen that was satisfying. I watched a video by a narcissist abuse recovery coach (Melanie Tonia Evans), and she very clearly outlined the effects of narcissistic abuse that I had experienced. It was nice to have my experience acknowledged and realize that others went through the same thing, that it was inevitable — Important for me because I still question that I did something wrong and that I could have prevented all the tragedies. I still think there’s something wrong with me for feeling the way I do or reacting the way I did. I still can’t look back on my life without feeling horrified and mortified. The whole thing was a train wreck. Also, it was encouraging to know that others went through the same thing and still had hope. She emphasized that it’s never too late to heal. I struggle to feel that my life is salvagable and that this mess can be fixed and blossom into anything other than the nightmare that it is. (Hard to imagine that I could ever get over this regret, too.)

Help me, god, help me. How do I get far away from here, far away from all this? Get away from this house I live in, away from the isolation, from my creepy disturbed addict “brother” who claims he’s my lover, from the lack of joy, pleasure, or fulfillment, from the lack of identity, from the denigration and gaslighting, from the fact that nothing makes sense?

Photo depiction of my life. Photo by Sammy Schuckert on Unsplash

“Burn your problems.” I like that picture at the beginning of this post. Such a show of strength and empowerment that I don’t have. Make it go away. Make this life all go away. How do I turn something ugly into something beautiful? I only know how to make something ugly go away by turning everything off. Shut it all down, shut it all off because you have no control of this mess. I lost years of my life by thinking I should turn off because my avoidant-attachment addict schizoid “friend” turned everything off by avoiding life, work & responsibility and focusing on is computer screen and found “happiness” that way. I did not find happiness.

I told myself that money would get me out of this mess, but I thought about it a little more and more questions and confusion came up. Jobs in the past have worsened my depression i.e. people treated me like scum because they see anyone my age in that line of work as scum or somesuch. That’s hard to put up with when you already have nothing going for you and no one who loves you or sees any good in you. And you can’t just turn to food, drugs or other endorphin-rushes to bring you some joy in life. It’s also depressing to see how fast the days of your life pass by (a much worse experience when your health condition causes you to lose huge chunks of time due to relentless fatigue and hypersomnia. I have very little hours in my day to be actually “living” as it is.) My jobs took me many steps backward and no steps forward. I.e. I needed to stop neglecting myself. When you ignore important issues, they just fester and grow.

Well, I’m glad I took those pictures of myself. They helped me realize something. I never knew how I come off to others so I never felt comfortable putting myself out there for others to see. It was like going into something blind, you know?

It’s so easy for an abusive person to take advantage of that, i.e. my avoidant-attachment abuser realizing I have no self-esteem and feel like I am nothing. He takes advantage of that and treats me like I am nothing.

And, wow, I was oblivious to how bad it was…. I did eventually aknowledge that he was a rude person who didn’t respect people (unless he found them cute, one reason I’ve come to realize I’m not cute or lovable), but I didn’t realize how badly he got away with treating me like nothing without any complaint from me. I didn’t complain! I just made excuses for him and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Just like my experience with the pictures, I didn’t realize I deserved anything better because I never “saw” myself, so I didn’t realize what he was taking away from me. I didn’t realize that I didn’t deserve to be disparaged and disgraced like that, didn’t even occur to me that I was better than that. It didn’t occur to me how much work he put into putting me down by ignoring me, abandoning me when in need, downplaying me and my accomplishments to an extreme (and claiming he doesn’t like proud people when confronted on his massive assault on my joy), being nitpicky and having bizarre impossible-to-keep-up-with pet-peeves leading to him ultimately shaming me, abusing my body through bizarre and humiliating sexual means and abusing me financially.

It’s not that he’s just an emotionally unavailable, apathetic robot addict with no emotions.

He is outright in-your-face abusive.

He does not only lack respect for people, but he also has a strong desire to bring them down. *Shudder*

You should hear his creepy put-down jokes where he scoffs at you then claims they’re just “friendly” jabs and creepily repeats, “They’re just jokes,” as if he’s preparing for ultimate worldwide domination through denigration of everyone in the world (other than cute animals and cute-sexy gamer girls or camgirls). Actually he plays similar games with animals that he likes, albeit in a milder way. And there’s something about the way he approaches porn that feels like he’s really just fantasizing about overpowering or enslaving the pretty girl, so maybe he doesn’t respect them either.

Yes, that’s him, the creepy guy that’s lauging at you, not with you. The guy that helps you, but at a price. The guy that makes your life go deeper and deeperinto nightmare territory. *Shudder* More cunning than a sociopath, I assure you. When he’s tired, he gets carried away and shows his true self. (They say when I heal, this fear will lose it’s grip.) Photo by DDP on Unsplash

I don’t feel so powerless when I think of these ugly things anymore because now I understand it. I understand why abuse followed me everywhere I went. (Why now I’m even afraid to get a job to rebuild my life because I am afraid of repeating the abuse of past jobs, which, given my luck, will probably happen again.) I feel finally free in accepting that this is a curse, and it is a curse that I can lift. I am not a hundred percent positive about that, but it’s the only thing that makes sense right now.

Faith, the only empowerment in a hopeless life. Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Low self-esteem was handed to me because I was neglected and disparaged by the parents who were supposed to love and mirror me. Neglect led to being bullied, being treated as the nothing that I was since I never had a chance to develop a full self. Nothing, nothing. Just a tool for someone else’s sick needs and desires.

I kept thinking I needed money to solve my problems. The truth is, it would have solved a lot of my problems and kept me from developing more problems. But there’s something deeper – there’s this curse, and even with money, I feel like abuse and emptiness might still keep finding me. If I could only pick one, money or breaking the curse, I think that lifting the curse would be more likely to bring freedom and happiness.

Published by illnessislife

Sick of being so sick I can't live life. But it's been so long like this that I accept it. Illness is life. I have no other life.

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