When I'm Left to My Own Devices, I Go Fucking Insane

I was reading in one of my books today, and I came across a quote that resonated with me.

"We accept the love we think we deserve." I don't remember what book it came from. Nor do I care. It doesn't matter at this point. At that matters is I want to write it all over my walls, on the few mirrors we keep in this house, on the front of my file folder, and on the insides of my wrists.

Just so I don't forget.

This past five days has been--hellish, to say the least. I cried for fifteen hours straight after my confidence up and left me. I could, and did, sit and have a completely normal conversation, just be crying the whole time.

I cried when I laid myself down to sleep. I cried when I tried to pick up a pen to write in my journal. I cried when I tried on new clothes during a retail therapy shopping spree. I cried when I tried to drink a milkshake. I cried in the shower. I cried when I walked down to my lab and realized that I hadn't even changed and just could NOT face dissecting a cat.

But you know... I don't think I'm angry anymore. My confidence left for reasons that frankly, only he understands. I think it hurt me more that the whole time he was doing it, he was regretting it. He told me so.

So why do it?

I wish I could understand. I wish I could rationalize it, and explain it to the both of us. I wish I could just fix this for both of us.

He doesn't want to be fixed.

I know that now.

And though he thought he was saving me, he was really killing me just a little bit. It wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last.

I still pray for him every night. I want him to be happy, to be healthy, to be in that place called Okay. Because I can see now that he wasn't there. And he might not be there for a very long time.

But I can't save him. He doesn't want me to save him.

I dream about him. But the dreams are getting less and less vivid as the days pass, and I wake up with dry cheeks. I don't know if I like this or not. I don't know if I can count this as a triumph or as another loss.

Maybe both. Nothing in life is black and white, and I will be happier if I don't try and put it in places like that.

My point is; I don't deserve to be treated like that. I never did. I have committed no great sin that warrants me wishing I was dead.

And this is my pledge; I will NOT accept that love anymore. I will NOT be treated that way. I do NOT deserve it.

I will tell myself this even if it's through tears, gritted teeth, and depression. This is going to the be one thing that's going to save me. I will not accept the love that I don't deserve.

Here's another quote from the Sixx AM song Girl With Golden Eyes. It's from Nikki Sixx's journal as he was withdrawing from heroin, and relates to how I've felt:

Day Three-I haven't had anything for three days now. This withdrawal is killing me. It's like shock therapy to my guts.
Day Four-Last visit to the clinic. My whole body feels like it's cracking into pieces. Fragile doesn't even come close to describing how I feel.
Day Five- I'm sick as a dog, but this handful of painkillers and a lotta whiskey's going to get me through.
Day Six- When I'm left to my own devices, I go fucking insane. I'll never use heroin again.
Day Seven- I can't believe I'm clean.
Day Eight-Everyone says I look better.
Day Nine-The parasites are panicking.
Day Ten-They seem amazed that I'm alive.