Comfort Me?

My idea of the ideal relationship is one where both people can sustain a day without the other, but that day is made infinitely exceptional and more desirable by the presence of the other. This concept can be substantially altered with the introduction of depression.

... This is my altered world. It is not desired or preferred. It is not always manageable or understood. But, this is the world I have to live in. I cannot easily alter this universe of mine with drugs. You take one drug only to find a sizable alteration in another area of your life. The slight difference that is seen by the drug in relation to my happiness, is thus almost pointless. I take a second drug to counter-act the ill-effects of the first. It is like being washed away at sea. I am farther and farther from who I am... floating here and there facing all consequences that happen along the way... and majorly unable to control my own fluctuation.

What a shitty existence. To be bound by some psychological and chemical fucked up happenings within me. We tell ourselves... we choose our path, we make our lives what we want them to be, we create our own future. What the fuck am I honestly creating? I do not feel I have created anything. Nor do I want to stand idly by and scream victim. I fight the current, the waves, the rocks, the sharks, the jellyfish. I flail hysterically trying to find the bottom, trying to find the footing that will allow me the ability to walk out of the water. The beautiful idea that I could control my own path. It seems out of grasp.

I went to therapy last night. My mood was semi laissez-faire. So much to control around me and such little power to do it with, it is discouraging. We talked about my upcoming breakfast with my father. In most instances I can handle my father. I have to stand taller, sit-up straighter, outline and define my motivations, and more and more often... I have to suppress my emotions.

My father cannot hold me emotionally... and every time I allow myself to be vulnerable to him, he drops me. He tells me a million reasons why being who I am is not really the best choice. He asked me when he came up to the hospital the night I attempted suicide... "why did you call your mom and not me?" I'm lying in a hospital bed with tubes, wires, and monitors... but you're right dad... this moment should be about how I've let you down.

This therapy session she wants to make me very aware of his inability to hold me. She wants me to know walking into it... that he will let me down if I allow him to. She wants me to place a barrier. She wants me to ask questions so that he doesn't have time to ask me some. As if I'm preparing for battle, I think about all the holes I have in my belly, all of the scars. It hurts. I feel afraid to ask for help from anyone, least of all a male.


I left therapy a bit torn and feeling cynical, having faced the reality that my father will, most likely, never provide the emotional support a child needs. I will never have that need fulfilled.

My lover and I went out to dinner with my cousin--my best-friend. She is going off for a summer job. I am happy for her, happy that she will get some of the fulfillment she needs after having paid an arm and a leg for her degree. I miss her smile, her soft skin, her sweet kisses, and constant reminder of love. But I know she is very busy and I try to respect her time.

I sit down to the dinner table... and I know I am triggered. Since the moment I left therapy I have been defensive, apprehensive, and vulnerable. I tell them. I tell them I am triggered... that I don't know why, but that hopefully some peace will come soon. He doesn't even acknowledge my pain. Too busy humming, tapping, twisting, and looking at his phone.

I reached out for help. I felt as though I had done what I could do to get help. He has told me that it is no longer his responsibility to reassure me. I fear ever bringing up this need to him. Just as my father sees me as this overly-emotional basket case, I think this is what my lover sees. And every time I ask for help it gets turned down.

I wonder if I should stop putting myself out there. I am so confused. Two days ago he was a bundle of love and on his way back to treating me like I was his gold. ... Today... his love feels careless and empty. It hardly feels at all. How can I ask for help when the person I would ask first has stated he will not give it?

We get home from dinner and I lie down on the couch with him for a moment. It feels like more of the same non-existence. Every part of my body is crying out in insecurity... begging him to say anything, do anything to show me you love me. I understand he must choose his words; I cannot tell him what I need to hear, but it does not mean I don’t still need it. Can we not find a middle ground, where I allow him all right to say it in his own time and in his own words, but that he still be willing to give?

I get up from the couch, without a word, and go to the bathroom. I take a single sleeping pill and go to bed to lie down. I always say goodnight, mostly because I always want him to come to bed with me... but tonight, I don't. So can’t he see I need him? Or does he just not care? Is this just my issue?

I lie in bed and cry for a few moments. How am I supposed to learn to ask for help when I’m hurting? How am I supposed to learn when the person I want to wipe away my tears doesn’t want to? I’m so lost. I’m in a relationship and feel almost as lonely as I was without one. I feel his love but I have lost so much of it. I’m afraid to ask for help. I tried tonight... at least twice... why can’t that be enough for him to know I need him to comfort me?

It’s as though we are in a relationship but our emotions are our own responsibility. I see a loving relationship as the one where we cheer each other up when we are sad. I see a relationship where one does not always have to say to the other... put your arms around me... hold me... tell me it’s going to be okay. He already knows... and takes all the pleasure in the world from being the man in my life that gets to. He wants to wipe away my tears because he hates to see me sad. He wants to hold my hand because he doesn’t want anyone’s eyes on me without them knowing we are a pair.

Am I asking for too much? Wanting to be held, loved, and comforted? I see that as a real relationship... and if it isn’t a part of this one... then what is this? I just want him to comfort me... to want to comfort me. My heart hurts again...