A Difficult Choice (or two)

Now that I have health insurance, the time has once again come to pursue ECT. I discussed it with my doctor yesterday, and I am awaiting evaluation.

It’s a catch 22, and I am concerned. On one hand, if it actually works, it may expedite things with my daughter and the entire court nonsense that I am beyond tired of after 6 months of torture. And that would be phenomenal.

However, there are some things that I’ve been mulling over in my head for the past couple of days as I’ve had far too much time alone with my thoughts. One is memory loss. What will I forget? Do I want to forget? My memories, no matter how painful, are important to me. Still… that isn’t the worst of it.

Part of me also wonders how much of who I am will change as a result. I can’t say that I’ve spent terribly much time in my life feeing truly happy, simply because every time I start to get to that point, something horrendous comes along and buries me under layers upon layers of prime rank bullshit. So… thinking back, there were only a few extremely happy memories… the births of my children… the warmth of Ben’s love and the feeling of really connecting with someone… That last happy weekend we had while Matt was with his parents and we drove around in some beautiful alternate reality where we had our own life together and our own not-falling-apart car…

That’s all. Little bits here and there throughout. But mostly those. So I don’t know if electrocuting my brain to make me happy is going to massively affect who I am as a person. And as I know truly at this point that no one likes who I am as a person, surely that can’t be a bad thing… but what if it is?

And what of my creative energy? Not that I’ve had much of it since my muse left me to die. But still… I think most artists will agree that some of our best work is created in pain. Not that I’m at all interested in continuing to suffer. I’ve had enough of that shit for an entire life time… but art and music were my livelihood. Will they get erased? And will I even care? And if I don’t, then I’m a vastly different person.

And how will it affect my feelings for him? This is the hardest part. Because they are causing me a lot of pain, but at the same time, I don’t want to give them up. I want to believe that if I push forward and continue to show how much I care and how badly I want to make things work, and not give up on him no matter what kinds of bullets he shoots my way… maybe it’ll rattle his brain and he’ll realize what he’s throwing away.

You just won’t ever find another with my loyalty and tenacity. Someone who cares truly and deeply and will continue to care, no matter what obstacles stand in their way… obviously, the one person I finally trusted to be that for me wasn’t. And as much as I know that I should walk away and forget it all… it’s just too much for me to walk away from. It would’ve been seven years a couple of weeks ago. So that’s 6 1/2 years, where we went through some of the most painful trials that most people never have to go through together. If we could make it through those, than why not this?

I can’t wrap my head around it.

I have a scrapbook, a photo album, and a box of memories, all of which I had been considering roasting over our Halloween bonfire. To help me forget. But I need to know… I need to know if that’s the best course of action. Should I destroy everything and try to forget as much as possible? Or should I keep holding out hope? I’ve been very patient, but I don’t appreciate the lies and deception and especially the hiding.

It’s so dumb. If one had nothing to hide, they wouldn’t hide. It’s that simple. And I have made it abundantly clear that I would be willing to patiently listen and not lose my shit, should he decide to be honest with me for once. But if he chooses to keep trying to tell me that I was hearing and seeing shit, which I have no history of, then that’s really on him and his conscience. He’s the one who will have to carry that burden for the rest of his life, and the longer he has to carry it, the heavier it will grow, until one day, it crushes him.

And by that time, I won’t be there to scoop his smooshed soul up from the ground and paste it back together with my special love glue. Guilt can weigh a person down for years, even decades before it breaks them. And as patient as I am and have been, I’m not going to waste away, waiting for the rest of my life. I’m still aging. I’m not getting any younger. I’m already missing out on so much of what life might have to offer just by being as patient as I have been.

But I know that I will never love again. That much is certain. I forbid myself from it.

What really bothers me is, I feel like everyone has this secret agenda of like trying to force me to go back to Matt and live happily ever after being the dumb little housewife. And that’s just not going to happen. Matt and I are extremely good friends. We’ve been together through all of the same shit Ben and I went through. He’s still here as a friend. And we are both fine with that.

And honestly, no one gets to dictate my fucking future and try to shove me into some role I don’t fit the part for. I decide my own future. I’m not some fucking Princess Jasmine. I choose my own future, and it currently has two paths: 1. Work things out like adults and be the parents that our beautiful blossoming baby girl needs and deserves, or 2. Shut myself off from all personal relationships that aren’t strictly blood or longer than ten years, leaving me with a very small handful of people that don’t even really care about me at all and with whom I will probably never be fully open with.

I want to be hopeful. I want to dare to hope for a brighter future… but just… with the history of my entire life being a bright, shining testament as to why god is dead and hope is a lie… I really am afraid to be so daring.

I need to know what to do.

Should I burn the memories and get ECT and hope to forget the pain, or…

Should I hang on as hard as I can and hope against all odds that maybe, possibly, somehow something will actually go good for me for once?

Or, I suppose, there’s always the chance that ECT might somehow kill me, and finally lift the burden off everyone who wishes I was gone. Because, let’s be honest here… no one actually wants me around anymore. The people who put up with me only barely do, and they make it exceptionally clear that I burden them. But I don’t know. If I get better, maybe I can move out into my own house and get out of their lives and go back to only existing when they need something.

Because that’s my purpose in life. I’m a convenience store. Open 24-7, but only comes to mind when useful. Occasionally gets robbed of goods, services, love, and emotion… time, labor, energy… With nothing in return, except being mildly tolerated.

I want to be worthy of more than just being tolerated. So what should I do? Because what I would so much rather do is get family therapy with Ben and Ivy and work through the pain and the problems and learn how to be better people not only for each other, but for ourselves. And especially, for our daughter. There’s no chance of memory loss or personality change with therapy. And I could still also get EMDR alongside.

But that would actually require me being seen as a human being with feelings and needs and a desire to become better… to be seen as someone who is deserving of the same love and dedication that I put out. I mean, fuck… I did my best to be not a pest in a situation where I felt like my feelings were invalid and I had no other choice. I did it because I wanted him to be happy. And he let me, because it did make him happy. It took the me out of me and made me hide away in a corner and leave him to himself, which is what he always seemed to like best. :,/ I needed him more than ever, but I was forced to just stay out of the way so he could be happy.

And now it’s a hundred times worse, and I’m tired of being the doormat. I’m tired of hiding my feelings and burying them so he doesn’t have to worry about them. My feelings matter, too. Now, more than ever. I need them to matter. So, so much. >_<