Hearts Of Gold h.s

Chapter 22

E

It is the end of the first week here at Harry's and days have slowly been passing by. I woke up the morning after my mild breakdown feeling the most guilt I have in a while. 

I also felt angry. I was so fucking angry at myself.

I called Piper early the next morning and basically told her everything. The words she spoke to me  ring through my head continuously.

"You aren't what your mind makes you out to be."

I'm trying to believe that, but it's a work in progress.

I'm really trying to believe that I'm not simply a fuck up or a burden or someone that is unloveable. 

I'm trying.

Piper never once made me feel guilty about what happened, but rather gave me a ton of different mechanisms or techniques to try before resulting in hurting myself or potentially anyone else. Things like muscle relaxation techniques, learning how to talk myself through an attack more effectively, and she stressed heavily to lean on Harry when things are too hard to handle alone. If I was resorting to self harm, then it was obviously too much to try to take on alone.

She didn't make me feel guilty, but I could feel the disappointment she carried in her tone at the set back. And it hurt. It hurt feeling the weight of disappointing someone. 

She had also made sure to touch on the aspect of codependency when Harry came up in conversation. She wants me to lean on him, but not depend on him. I should be able to stand on my own, but needing someone to keep me balanced every now and then is okay.

I'm not dependent on Harry, but I do find myself craving his presence and the comfort he brings. I know I could live without him, but I simply don't want to.

That is my thought process most of the time, but then there are other times that I can't stand the idea of him knowing what is happening in my head. 

I trust Harry, I really do, but I feel myself closing myself off from him for some reason. It's like my mind is telling me that if I keep putting all of my issues onto him, then he will just get sick of me. I've heard the words 'you're not too much' and 'I'm not leaving' come out of his mouth dozens of times, but when my mind is screaming that he's going to leave me for struggling... it's hard to not believe it.

He continued to ask me throughout the past week if I was alright and I would simply say yes every time. The way he looked at me told me that he didn't believe me a single time, but the word 'okay' was the only way I continued to describe how I was feeling.

I put on a happy, content face anytime we left his room, but as soon as out of the eyes of everyone else in the house, the weight of my own mind was painfully crushing every single one of my muscles in my body.

I wish this was easier.

But, it's not and I have to simply deal with that. Maybe one day everything will just get better. The tsunami of self deprecating thoughts in my head will be silenced and I won't have the weight that comes with simply living.

Maybe one day things will be better.

Maybe one day I will get the silence I have craved for so long.

Last night, Gemma had sat with me at the kitchen table for about an hour and we sleepily talked quite a bit. It was just past three in the morning and she had stumbled into the kitchen since she couldn't sleep. I had been in the same boat and she took it upon herself to sit with me at their round dining room table and talk for awhile.