Sunday, October 30, 2011
something big, something nasty
"There is something big growing inside you, and you have to hide it away and push it down...you are just too nasty for words."
Now those aren't words that are easy for anyone to stomach. And as for me, my father's rather unfortunate choice of words there makes it all the much harder. If I read that sentence out of context, as you will be doing, it makes it sound like I come from some sort of hugely religious family and I have just gotten myself pregnant out of wedlock and my father has just found out I am carrying a bastard child. Would you have guessed that I earned myself that walloping by staying in bed because I was feeling sick and not wanting any lunch?
A very long time ago I wrote a blog entry (professional incompetence) about being sat down and having a "family meeting" whereby my parents dragged out for hours all my incompetencies and shortcomings and reinforced a message that I have hearing all my life: you will never be good enough to be loved by anyone.
Well today there has been another meeting. Another serious meeting. The year is always filled with these sorts of meetings scattered around but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) there are only 1 or 2 serious ones each year. I had one earlier this year and today was another one. At least I can rest knowing that there shouldn't be any more serious ones this year.
Today's meeting was triggered by me wanting to stay in bed. [For fuck's sake, what's wrong with that. I'm recovering from exams, all I want to do is stay in bed.] I was already in a rotten mood because I'd wanted to drive around the countryside and had woken up too late to do so and so I all I wanted to do was stay in bed.
Riveting, isn't it. I'm sorry that this isn't very exciting, to be honest, I don't know why my parents made such a big deal out of it. Their reaction really sort of would have been appropriate for something like, if I'd been found injecting myself with heroin and wouldn't get out of bed due to some drug induced stupor.
And since I'd woken up around lunchtime, I didn't want to eat any lunch and when they called me for lunch, I said that I didn't want any and didn't go down. Honestly, tell me if I'm crazy, because thus far, I don't think I've done anything wrong at all.
But because of this, my father stormed into my room and dragged me into his room and sat me down to have another family meeting. Apparently, I'd made my mother cry. And he was mad. How dare I have the insufferable cheek to something like that. How dare I. Don't I know how lowly I am?
I have to say that I bore the vast majority of this meeting with iron will and poker face. I was actually feeling rather smug about how well I was handling it. But then, suddenly, for no real reason, I felt it all control slipping away and no matter how much I willed my eyes not to produce tears, they wouldn't listen. It was a moment of total and utter loss. Like all the energy drained out of me and I felt like slumping forwards, have all life drain out of me and just die there.
Afterwards, it was the first time in my life when I've actually physically crawled into a corner and beg to be left alone. I've never felt so small, and so attacked. It's been almost 12hours since the event and I'm still crying. My eyes feel so strained, they feel like they are shriveling up in the sockets and getting ready to fall out of my head. My father told me to always remember that I have something big and nasty inside of me, and that I have to hide it or I will never be loved. That I am not perfect, and unless I improve, I will never be loved. Among lots of other things that I shan't bore you with.
The long and short of it is, I'm an awful, awful person and I will never be loved. The end.
I think that for a long time now, I have been slowly losing hope. Hope in what? I don't really know. Perhaps, hope of me possibly having a happy ending. After today, I don't really think I have much, if any, left. And I find myself making very, very different suicide plans. Previously, I'd always thought of taking a big overdose. Saving up on drugs and taking a huge dose and just being found, dead on my bed. But now, I find that this method has too much uncertainty. What if I am found before I am dead? What if I don't take a large enough dose? No, I've decided I need a method that will make sure I will be dead at the other side of it.
So I've decided that I will drive my car to a neighbourhood that I used to live in and then I will be dressed all in black, and it will be late at night and I will wait in the bushes by the train track and then just leap in front of it. Being hit by a train seems like a reasonably certain method of committing suicide. And I really do want to do it. I'd do it now, but for the moment, I'd feel too much guilt about leaving my friend all by herself next year, in a flat that she can't afford by herself. But part of me is really itching to just go out and do it. This is perhaps the most serious I've ever been about it. I don't care that I have a big holiday coming up, I don't care that I'm so close to qualifying as a doctor, I don't care that I am going to work in Bristol for a bit next year. I don't care. I just want to die. And not have to deal with any of this bullshit.
But I am too fat to do that just now. I have to die thin. I need to be thin. I want to be thin so that I can curl up on my bed and look small. Does that sound stupid?