Limbo

I don’t want to die. I really don’t. Whenever I take the time to think about it I can recognize that. I just don’t know how to live with the loneliness of the decisions that I’ve made in life. Knowing that anyone who really knew me would rightly be disgusted and despise me..it just fills me with despair. I feel so incredibly isolated and alone, even when surrounded by friends or family. It drains the meaning from any relationship, because it’s based upon me deceiving them into thinking that I’m someone worthy of respect and care, rather than someone repulsive to be shunned (the truth). It’s like I’ve cut myself off morally from the rest of humanity. I’ve removed any possibility for emotional intimacy. My life will always be one huge lie.

And I haven’t a clue how to live with that. What I’ve done to myself. I’m not going to do the right thing. I’m not going to confess, to be honest. That would just destroy my outer life so it reflected the inner destruction. And I’m probably not going to kill myself, unless/until my fear of continuing to live overwhelms my fear of letting go of life.

So I’m stuck in this middle place. I’ve removed any chance of meaning for myself, any chance of connection. But I still have the longing for that. And I don’t know what to do about that. About the feelings of complete loneliness and isolation. When no genuine connection is possible, everything becomes superficial and hollow, and nothing can fill that void. Knowing that people you like and care for would rightly reject and despise you if they knew the truth hurts so much. I can’t convince myself they’d be wrong. I experience a little of that rejection and generate self-hatred every time I’m reminded of it.

I don’t think it’s guilt exactly, or remorse. That should be focused on the impact you’ve had on others, and I don’t know what that might be. This is selfish, focused on what I’ve done to myself through my actions. It’s not even shame, as with the exception of therapists, no one else knows (yet.) There’s a lot of fear involved, from being forced to acknowledge to myself how awful I am, and the potential social consequences of that. But mostly it’s just incredible loneliness, isolation, and despair.

The knowledge of it is always there in the background, but every few days I get a sharp little reminder. That this person that I like, respect, & care about would be repulsed if they knew the truth about me. That they’d want nothing more to do with me. And they’d be right. And there’s nothing I can do about that. And any shred of meaning drains from my world.

And I don’t know how to live with that. Which is why I keep ending up back here, despite not wanting to die. My brain is stuck, chasing this stuff round and round in an endless loop, searching in vain for some way out. I have created a limbo for myself.