I Am Beyond Help

This year has been especially rough.

I lost my grandmother at the beginning of April. She died slowly and alone. I sent her flowers right up to the end but I couldn't be there because at that time there was a ban on flying. She cared about me more than my own parents ever did and now I'm having a breakdown every other day. This is the most horrible feeling I've ever felt. Sometimes I can't even breathe. She is gone and I wish I was too.

In mid July, I lost my cat. She was my best friend and she passed away without warning. I watched her die in front of me and there was nothing I could do to save her. What's left of my heart went with her and I've cried every day since. I lock myself in the bathroom and hold my breath while I sob so my husband doesn't hear and wake up. I cry until I feel faint and my vision starts to go dark. Then I gulp a few breaths of air and keep crying. I cry until it starts getting light outside and then slip quietly into bed.

When I dream, I dream of the ocean. Always the ocean. I never know why. I'm so afraid of it. And yet here I am, on the beach with rising tides and stormy skies. Houses right on the coast being battered by giant waves. Flooding. So much flooding. It's so real, so vivid that I wake up gasping for air. By then it's almost noon.

I eat half a meal a day. Now and then, I won't eat at all. I've lost nearly 30 pounds but I've plateaued. I've tried to eat more, but I get sick.

I've found signs of pre-cancer.

My best friend is no longer my best friend, according to my therapist. She speaks to me maybe once a week if I'm lucky, and it's only ever one message at a time. Maybe two. I've tried to forge bonds with other people at the insistence of my therapist, psychiatrist, and family but I just can't. Every time I try, I feel this barrier between me and them. I dissociate. I go numb. I try to ask for help, but no words come out. 

So I just fall silent, expression blank, and take whatever pills they put in my hand. They can't get through to me and I've stopped trying to break through the glass wall to them. I've given up trying. I've given up talking. I've just given up altogether.

Stare. Take pills. Zone out. The days blur together. I can't remember the day before. They give me tests. They assess. I grieve. I have private breakdowns, private hell. They give me more pills. I stare. I am still and silent while the world rushes around me in a blur.

I am beyond help.