To Whoever Will Listen, II
To Whoever Will Listen:
Days have passed and writing has been rare. I’ve tried to at work and on my computer, but words have seemed impossible to find. It’s a struggle, but Norah, my therapist, says that I need to try and force myself to write because it is a good coping skill that seems to help me deal with things. So I write.
Three days ago was the three month anniversary of my suicide attempt. I had wanted everything to be okay. It wasn’t. I cried a lot, and had my worst day since The Night Things Went to Hell. It started with stress because Nathan kept telling me I was going to be happy all day. I felt like I had no choice with him telling me that, that it wouldn’t be okay for me to feel anything else. I felt that I would have to pretend to be ‘a-OK’ when I really wasn’t. All I wanted to hear from him was “if you break, I’ll be there”. He didn’t say that until I told him to. I didn’t mean as much when he said it after. Yes, he said I should know that already, but the thing is, I need to hear that. Yes, actions speak louder than words, but after hearing him say I wasn’t important, that no one care, I thrive on finally being able to hear words of comfort.
I was okay for awhile after that, but I still felt a bit emotional. The 22nd was a very emotional day for me, and all day I kept thinking back to where I was three months ago. What was I doing at 3:30 on March 22nd? What about at six? How long had I been begging for Nathan to just come and talk to me face-to-face at whatever point of the day three months ago? Had I started to struggle with the idea to actually attempt suicide at that time? It was horrible. And as the day went on, I kept getting closer and closer to the anniversary of the exact moment I had tried to kill myself.
Then Katherine called, and everything fell go pieces.
To understand, you have to understand The Night Things Went to Hell. That night I was unraveling. Panic attacks and fights with Nathan had defined the previous few days. That night, I wanted nothing more than to run into the kitchen and plunge a knife through my heart. I wanted Nathan to talk to me, like he promised I would. I want Nathan to call me, to calm me down, to talk me out of doing something stupid. Except he couldn’t. He was with Katherine, Sarah, and one of their friends, and he couldn’t help me out. He couldn’t be a soothing voice of reason. He had broken one promise that day, and now he couldn’t help me out. So, panicked and hurt and scared to death, I tried to cut myself, gliding my arm against the sharp metal of the tape dispenser. It hurt at first, then went to a dull numb. It eased my panic slightly. It scares me that it did. I won’t ever do it, because I promised Nathan that I wouldn’t again, and unlike him, I keep promises. That night was terrifying, anyway. I still shake a little when I think about it, how broken I was, how I couldn’t get the one person I knew who could save me. I just wish he could have called me. I honestly believe if he had called, I wouldn’t have done anything that night. I wouldn’t be angry at myself over that. I wouldn’t be afraid. But he didn’t, couldn’t he said.
So when he answered Katherine’s call that night, it hit a nerve. He didn’t just answer the phone, he talked. Maggie’s words from months past came charging back at full force: “Even if Katherine is only 1% involved, none of our feelings matter to him.” Notimportantnotimportant flashed through my mind. To me it appeared he could be on the phone around friends to chit chat and say goodnight…why couldn’t he talk me down when I was panicking and scared to death? Why couldn’t he have helped prevent something scary? And it scares me to thin…what if he had been with her or a group That One Day…would he have even bothered to call me? Talk me out of trying to kill myself? It scares me that the first answer to mind is ‘No’.
His answering the phone also brought back the painful memories of the things he did to me for her. He invited me to dinner once, when she was in town. I was unsure about coming to eat with him at first, but he convinced me. Just as I sat down with my food, she called, and asked him to come. He said he wasn’t with ‘anybody important’, and he left. I was right there. I think that was when I started to hate him a tiny bit. I remember sitting in his room, on his bed, staring at the computer screen, reading the insults that Katherine lobbed my way through IM. She didn’t know I was there, she just wanted to apparently bitch about me. Nathan sat there and said nothing. He didn’t ask her to stop. He didn’t say he was sorry to me. He just continued to chat with her. I knew she didn’t like me, and I knew she insulted me. But was it wrong to think that a friend would defend me when I was sitting right there and saw everything the person said? How did Nathan not understand that his silence was destroying all faith and trust I had in him? He called me his friend, yet I wasn’t important enough to be defended. As long as Katherine was happy, right? I was the ‘friend’ who would be the only one he wouldn’t talk to while at Centre. Maggie would say she was texting him, so I shoot him a text. He ignores me, talks to her. Once I was freaking out, stressed that I had just told Maggie about That One Day, and I texted him from reassurance. Maggie texted him about a cat. Guess who got a response? I was always the singled out one. I was always the one ignored. I once told him how what he was doing hurt me. All I got was “get over it, no one cares”. I cared.
Sometimes people wonder how I don’t have a self-esteem to speak of, how I completely lost my sense of self-worth. It’s quite easy. He handed a large piece of it over to her on a silver platter. I never expected to be placed number one, but I thought I would be somewhere on that list, a number that was actually acknowledged. Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? Stand up for one another? Be there? Why be friends if you are just going to walk away when they need you? Why be friends if you are just going to trod all over their emotions. I had fallen in the mud, and he turned away, even as I cried for help. But as long as she was happy with him, it didn’t matter how much he hurt his friends.
Friends. Plural. Because I wasn’t the only bit of human wreckage he left behind for her. I was just the only one who he had broken beforehand, and therefore was shattered. It’s something that I take refuge in, that I wasn’t the only one hurt. When Sarah starts complaining about people, you know there was a problem. I remember Maggie, who felt safe around Nathan, began talking about how much it would hurt her when he would always have his phone out texting, because it made her feel like he didn’t consider her important. She asked him not to do it. He said ‘get over it’. I remember her being ecstatic that Katherine was going away for 10 weeks, because she was seriously worried that she would want to visit Lexington one day, and Katherine would also want to hang out with Nathan then too, and Maggie would be the one who would get left behind. I remember when they gave up defending him when I expressed my fears of him ending our friendship just to make her happy. I remember all of that. And it’s funny, because I honestly don’t believe it phases him how much he was hurting us then, with how he was acting. Maybe me a little bit, because on top of old stuff he was doing to me, which was equally monstrous, I couldn’t deal with the new drama added onto it. I couldn’t and it got me here. I’m just glad Maggie didn’t get hurt as bad as I did.
And that is why I completely feel apart that night when he answered the phone. Because everything he did to me for her was brought back. All the pain. His voice telling me that I wasn’t important. The fact that we would be in a crowded room and he’d list everyone there, everyone but me. The fact that I wasn’t important enough to defend, and that I probably will never be. The fact that I lost my sense of self worth because no one would stand up for me, not even him. I’m happy he’s happy, really, I am. I just hate what it took to get him there. I’m terrified when he reads this, that Maggie’s mantra will be proven to be correct. Hate that it will hurt when he’ll tell me to ‘get the fuck over it’. Hate that I know his hurting his friends will most likely be the one thing that will never change. And that’s that.
Shea
Days have passed and writing has been rare. I’ve tried to at work and on my computer, but words have seemed impossible to find. It’s a struggle, but Norah, my therapist, says that I need to try and force myself to write because it is a good coping skill that seems to help me deal with things. So I write.
Three days ago was the three month anniversary of my suicide attempt. I had wanted everything to be okay. It wasn’t. I cried a lot, and had my worst day since The Night Things Went to Hell. It started with stress because Nathan kept telling me I was going to be happy all day. I felt like I had no choice with him telling me that, that it wouldn’t be okay for me to feel anything else. I felt that I would have to pretend to be ‘a-OK’ when I really wasn’t. All I wanted to hear from him was “if you break, I’ll be there”. He didn’t say that until I told him to. I didn’t mean as much when he said it after. Yes, he said I should know that already, but the thing is, I need to hear that. Yes, actions speak louder than words, but after hearing him say I wasn’t important, that no one care, I thrive on finally being able to hear words of comfort.
I was okay for awhile after that, but I still felt a bit emotional. The 22nd was a very emotional day for me, and all day I kept thinking back to where I was three months ago. What was I doing at 3:30 on March 22nd? What about at six? How long had I been begging for Nathan to just come and talk to me face-to-face at whatever point of the day three months ago? Had I started to struggle with the idea to actually attempt suicide at that time? It was horrible. And as the day went on, I kept getting closer and closer to the anniversary of the exact moment I had tried to kill myself.
Then Katherine called, and everything fell go pieces.
To understand, you have to understand The Night Things Went to Hell. That night I was unraveling. Panic attacks and fights with Nathan had defined the previous few days. That night, I wanted nothing more than to run into the kitchen and plunge a knife through my heart. I wanted Nathan to talk to me, like he promised I would. I want Nathan to call me, to calm me down, to talk me out of doing something stupid. Except he couldn’t. He was with Katherine, Sarah, and one of their friends, and he couldn’t help me out. He couldn’t be a soothing voice of reason. He had broken one promise that day, and now he couldn’t help me out. So, panicked and hurt and scared to death, I tried to cut myself, gliding my arm against the sharp metal of the tape dispenser. It hurt at first, then went to a dull numb. It eased my panic slightly. It scares me that it did. I won’t ever do it, because I promised Nathan that I wouldn’t again, and unlike him, I keep promises. That night was terrifying, anyway. I still shake a little when I think about it, how broken I was, how I couldn’t get the one person I knew who could save me. I just wish he could have called me. I honestly believe if he had called, I wouldn’t have done anything that night. I wouldn’t be angry at myself over that. I wouldn’t be afraid. But he didn’t, couldn’t he said.
So when he answered Katherine’s call that night, it hit a nerve. He didn’t just answer the phone, he talked. Maggie’s words from months past came charging back at full force: “Even if Katherine is only 1% involved, none of our feelings matter to him.” Notimportantnotimportant flashed through my mind. To me it appeared he could be on the phone around friends to chit chat and say goodnight…why couldn’t he talk me down when I was panicking and scared to death? Why couldn’t he have helped prevent something scary? And it scares me to thin…what if he had been with her or a group That One Day…would he have even bothered to call me? Talk me out of trying to kill myself? It scares me that the first answer to mind is ‘No’.
His answering the phone also brought back the painful memories of the things he did to me for her. He invited me to dinner once, when she was in town. I was unsure about coming to eat with him at first, but he convinced me. Just as I sat down with my food, she called, and asked him to come. He said he wasn’t with ‘anybody important’, and he left. I was right there. I think that was when I started to hate him a tiny bit. I remember sitting in his room, on his bed, staring at the computer screen, reading the insults that Katherine lobbed my way through IM. She didn’t know I was there, she just wanted to apparently bitch about me. Nathan sat there and said nothing. He didn’t ask her to stop. He didn’t say he was sorry to me. He just continued to chat with her. I knew she didn’t like me, and I knew she insulted me. But was it wrong to think that a friend would defend me when I was sitting right there and saw everything the person said? How did Nathan not understand that his silence was destroying all faith and trust I had in him? He called me his friend, yet I wasn’t important enough to be defended. As long as Katherine was happy, right? I was the ‘friend’ who would be the only one he wouldn’t talk to while at Centre. Maggie would say she was texting him, so I shoot him a text. He ignores me, talks to her. Once I was freaking out, stressed that I had just told Maggie about That One Day, and I texted him from reassurance. Maggie texted him about a cat. Guess who got a response? I was always the singled out one. I was always the one ignored. I once told him how what he was doing hurt me. All I got was “get over it, no one cares”. I cared.
Sometimes people wonder how I don’t have a self-esteem to speak of, how I completely lost my sense of self-worth. It’s quite easy. He handed a large piece of it over to her on a silver platter. I never expected to be placed number one, but I thought I would be somewhere on that list, a number that was actually acknowledged. Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? Stand up for one another? Be there? Why be friends if you are just going to walk away when they need you? Why be friends if you are just going to trod all over their emotions. I had fallen in the mud, and he turned away, even as I cried for help. But as long as she was happy with him, it didn’t matter how much he hurt his friends.
Friends. Plural. Because I wasn’t the only bit of human wreckage he left behind for her. I was just the only one who he had broken beforehand, and therefore was shattered. It’s something that I take refuge in, that I wasn’t the only one hurt. When Sarah starts complaining about people, you know there was a problem. I remember Maggie, who felt safe around Nathan, began talking about how much it would hurt her when he would always have his phone out texting, because it made her feel like he didn’t consider her important. She asked him not to do it. He said ‘get over it’. I remember her being ecstatic that Katherine was going away for 10 weeks, because she was seriously worried that she would want to visit Lexington one day, and Katherine would also want to hang out with Nathan then too, and Maggie would be the one who would get left behind. I remember when they gave up defending him when I expressed my fears of him ending our friendship just to make her happy. I remember all of that. And it’s funny, because I honestly don’t believe it phases him how much he was hurting us then, with how he was acting. Maybe me a little bit, because on top of old stuff he was doing to me, which was equally monstrous, I couldn’t deal with the new drama added onto it. I couldn’t and it got me here. I’m just glad Maggie didn’t get hurt as bad as I did.
And that is why I completely feel apart that night when he answered the phone. Because everything he did to me for her was brought back. All the pain. His voice telling me that I wasn’t important. The fact that we would be in a crowded room and he’d list everyone there, everyone but me. The fact that I wasn’t important enough to defend, and that I probably will never be. The fact that I lost my sense of self worth because no one would stand up for me, not even him. I’m happy he’s happy, really, I am. I just hate what it took to get him there. I’m terrified when he reads this, that Maggie’s mantra will be proven to be correct. Hate that it will hurt when he’ll tell me to ‘get the fuck over it’. Hate that I know his hurting his friends will most likely be the one thing that will never change. And that’s that.
Shea