Do You Remember Me?

Content Warning: sexual assault, depression, suicidality

Do you remember the old me? I do. I wish for her back. But perhaps that is a pipe dream. I miss the woman who still thought she was 17 inside and wanted adventure, not to hide away. I miss the gal who used to take pride in her appearance, the latest fashion, hair. Now if I can brush my teeth a couple times a week then this is an accomplishment. Where did my sense of humour go? The playful and educated banter I used to thrive on? Now I run my errands as quick as I can, so I do not have to see or talk to people.

I wear the same four items of clothing all week… they get the sniff test. I fake my way through most of my days and pretend to be interested in life. I go for the tea I am invited to by the sweet Scottish lady down the street. But she is too perceptive and can sense a darkness in me. Best not go for tea again. I do not want to have to explain.

On the days I cannot fake it I stay in bed, high. It’s weak of me but right now its keeping me top side. I am slowly selling off my things… my favourite things. There is a pile of 20 and 50 dollar bills scattered on the dining table. I cannot remember the last time I laughed and meant it. I still have friends that I love but have resigned myself to the toxic thought that I bring nothing to the relationship. You ALL get my mask.

So, you remember the old me that loved being a nurse? All the hard work of being a single mom while going to nursing school, working three jobs to make ends meet and my kids fed? Graduated with distinction at the top of my class. Today I cannot get through one chapter in a book. 18 months of therapy was hard work— but I was not done, and $1100 month is not affordable for me. I do not have resources.

I remember how passionate and inspiring I could be to others. Spearheading projects… contributing to something bigger than ourselves. Giving back. Now I am left with no energy to care about anything. My ability to commit to the greater good has withered.
You were my Clinical Lead. My Manager. My Mentor. And to the other...You were my Patient... all I offered you was my caring and love. You both stole something irreplaceable.

I am an Empath or HSP and when I quit using in 2009, I only felt that existence grow. And I welcomed it. Being highly intuitive is what made me a great nurse. I was a great nurse. I unknowingly allowed it to be taken from me. I no longer have an identity. I am no longer required as a mom, the kids are grown. In label I am somebody’s partner but its passionless. I do not feel like a woman nor am I appreciated as one. I have lost the time when I felt beautiful or was told I was. I am desperate to hear someone tell me that they do not want to lose me.

After all the childhood trauma that I have seen my way through, divorce, then staying for 8 years in a severely abusive relationship and I still came through the other side. Is this what sexual assault and rape leaves a woman with? No worth? No value? Constant fear? I am not safe to nurse any longer. I have tried in vain for accountability from my employer, police, the college. Nothing. Perhaps it’s me? I am the cautionary tale.

Is it time for me to finally admit that I no longer have the strength to save myself? How pathetic. Can one become so emotionally and physically exhausted that they cannot fight for themselves any longer. I wish I could say these words face to face with all of those that I love but I am filled with shame for even writing this.

I am afraid to live… and I am afraid to die.