Wednesday, July 16, 2014

H is for Hard

I haven't been going to group lately, but did go tonight. I wish I had stayed home. We do "check-in," where everyone goes around and says their name, the high of their week, the low of their week, and a skill they used. I told mine. My low was pretty low.
Two people came up to me at break and tried to share stories from their lives. One well-meaning girl only succeeded in making me feel sorry for her. The other woman is lucky I was able to refrain from jumping out of my chair and ramming her stupid face into the brick wall. Hard. I am not, by nature, a violent person, but when you are talking to me about something that really matters, don't be stupid. Don't. Just shut your stupid face and go sit down.
And then, once group recommenced, another girl used me as an example of people being nice and trying to help. They did not help. One genuinely tried, the other was just stupid and wanted to feel important. Don't use stupidity as an example of kindness. Do not confuse the two, and especially do not involve me. I spent the entire remainder of group trying not to just get up and leave. The only reason I didn't was that a late-comer was sitting right in front of the door and it would have caused drama. I couldn't make a clean exit, so I sat there and drew geometric designs and dissociated until group was finally over.
People tried to talk to me after group and they meant well but I was so far out of it and so mad and so sad and so over it that I just left. I had to. I had nothing to say to those people. Now I am at home on my couch, drinking. I have been able to not drink for quite some time. I do not think I have enough alcohol on hand to get as drunk as I want to get, which is probably good, because then I get really, really sad and am strongly tempted to just go ahead and take every pill I have. I blame Ex for all of this. If not for him, I would not be in therapy and would not be subjected to stupid people who need to have their faces smashed into brick walls. Hard.

I thought therapy was supposed to make me feel better. What happened?

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Don't make me talk to myself, yo.

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