Wasted Years

Ain't it funny how it is, you never miss it 'til it's

gone away

And my heart is lying there and will be 'til my

dying day

- Wasted Years, Iron Maiden

I'm not so good at talking about my feelings until they're overflowing and I become incoherent as I choke on tears. In all of the living and breaking I've done I'm quiet after I give the facts. The feelings I talk about are desperate, immediate. Emotions of surging love, fatal fleeing or abhorrent terror come to the fore allowing anger, inadequacy and loneliness to fall silently. I seek help and never use it to potential. I exist only to survive each moment as it comes, never to enjoy or expect a future. This pattern becomes apparent when I look at the list of therapists I've seen in my life and the reasons I chose to leave them. Now, here I am desperate for resolve and still unwilling to take the hand of a new professional based on the shortcomings of another. I don't feel ready to talk.

I wish I'd done things differently. I wish I'd allowed people to help me when I had darling mummy to pay the fees. If I had utilised my assets I would have so much less baggage to drag across town. The problem is I've never been able to talk. I've always lived in fear that someone would say "No, that's not rape." or "That's not abusive." - for someone to put me at fault in all of my problems. The fact that I've never again encountered one of my old therapists makes me wish I'd faced those fears and lived then, maybe I'd be less broken now. Thinking is bad for me.

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind

Can't ease this pain, so easily

When you can't find the words to say it's hard to

make it through another day

And it makes me wanna cry and throw my

hands up to the sky

With every day that passes me I wish I'd started something sooner. Right now I wish I'd told my best friend a lot more details. I wish I had ripped off the plaster and let my wounds breath. When will I have a day when I think I've done enough? That I've loved hard enough and taken enough chances and made a real difference to just one moment in time... Even to me.

So understand

Don't waste your time always searching for

those wasted years

Face up... make your stand

And realise you're living in the golden years

Tomorrow JJ will bring me to an appointment with a counsellor to try to find appropriate help for my sickness and give me some kind of future. I don't want to go. I'm too scared to talk - it's too late to change... But this is do or die.

I do.

depressivedetails@gmail.com