So, let me get this right. You want me to carry on, like this, indefinitely. You can’t even tell me when I might get some help. You can see the gaping wounds that assessments have left behind, and you’re OK with letting them bleed?
You hear me struggle, as I watch my friends get partners, get married, have children, be happy and radiant, and in love, while my own family has fallen apart, – and you’re OK with me despairing, wondering if you’re asking me to be single forever, even though I would love to have a partner again one day?
You hear me wrestle with wondering whether any of my friends – anyone – truly wants to spend time with me, or whether I leave them feeling that they have to. You hear how hard I find it to trust that they want to be with me – and you’re OK with that?
You listen, as hour-by-hour, I search for a reason to stay alive – something to cling to in the future, to hold on for. You know it doesn’t feel as if I’ll ever be able to “get” relationships right. That I ever won’t be full of anger, or jealousy, or both. That You don’t care.
Hear me. I’m angry with You, for making me put up with all the emotional rubbish, and with waiting, when You could take it all away so easily. I can’t accept the waiting. I feel horrid; sad and un-loveable. I hate You for what You’re asking me to go through right now.