CornySenior Contributor
Dispensable Me.
I many ways it is a little bit of a miracle that I am still here. I have somehow managed to claw myself out of what was a terrifying psychosis, pretty much all by myself.
I've lost a lot of time. Fallen behind, and had to let go of hopes and dreams for my future, will never realise my potential, all of those sad things that complex mental illness takes away from you. I've had some pretty scary experiences in my life, but that is up there with one of the scariest.
I had the help of a wonderful shrink that chose not to drug me, believing the results would be minimal if not zero, because in his experience severe early life neglect and trauma don't respond. I won the lottery with him. Next May I haven't been on an anti-D in 5 years. And the anti-psychs are only on an as needed basis for chronic insomnia. I'm happy to take meds if I get results, but I didn't, they made me worse, some even made me very suicidal. I just finished Edward Bullmore's The Inflamed Mind, and maybe that's why I have had such extreme and terrible reactions to the meds. I'm just one of those people that don't respond.
Compared to so many other people out there that simply have absolutely no choice but to be drugged against their will, they have their liberty taken from them - I am blessed. I don't really have much to complain about. I should be grateful and just get on with it.
But it's the familial and social that derails me. Doctors can't write a script for close relationships. They can't offer you a bottle of a regular sex life, hugs, cuddles and affection. Someone that understands you, and wants to stick up for you. They can't give you a new family or a loving partner.
I have absolutely no sense of belonging in my life. From what I've read chronic feelings of emptiness are common in people that have experienced severe neglect. Especially from their mother.
I just don't feel any sense of belonging and closeness. Even to my family. They make me feel dispensable and like an operational function.
I have been running my life like a military and a monastery, to try and get well, I am that strict with how much I expose myself to unhealthy habits that trigger my broken biology. But last night I got home from my shrinks and I got blind effing drunk. And it felt bloody fantastic.
I just feel that some holes and hurts can never be healed.
I'm a romantic in many other ways. But not when it comes to the affects of a life of rejection, when you are an inherently affectionate person - the damage just feels permanent and very personal. Like my outside world is mocking my inner world. And on purpose.
I think that my early years changed the architecture in my brain and it will always be a vacuous hole because I am perpetually exposed to my familiy's aloof, stiff upper lip, no hugs, coldness. I was the Black Baby, the polar opposite.
I made the silly mistake of reading the news again. And the story of the little girl at the dance studio was very triggering. The thing that made me the saddest was the police commissoner's impassioned rage and determination that he should rot in jail.
I can't imagine one elder in my family let alone a parent being passionately outraged when it comes to my own story. I didn't even get one hug. Not one. Not one single person in my family embraced me.
It's just soul destroying.
