Diary entry 14-02-2023. Self Worth

I’ve been lost for a long time, not knowing who or what I was. Eternal conflict, unending torture. Follow the voices, hiding the truth, lying to myself. If it was even me who I was talking to. How to see the difference? Can you even see any difference? In the mirrors reflection, the same smirks and expressions. Each and every day they seem different but are still the same image. Is that who I am? Is this all I am? Or are we just what we are. Many in one, one body, many minds, one reflection, numerous copies of the same but all different. It’s getting harder to differentiate between all of them. Which one was helpful, which one was harmful? Which voice can I trust, which voice is the liar? It’s driving me mad.

Trying to find a solution to this problem, very well knowing there is none. Medicine can ease the suffering but can never take it away completely. The endless talks, contemplating every aspect of this disease. Knowing everything but still being completely oblivious to what it actually is. I don’t understand, can I even understand? What is holding me back? I’ve done enough to find out, didn’t I? Haven’t I suffered enough? After all those nights full of whispers, all those days full of screams. Will it ever end? I know I can end it, I know there is a way. But that would leave my family in ruin. I can’t inflict such hardship on those who I love. My children, my wife, my parents, my friends if I still have any of those. Would they even miss me? Or would they be better of without me? I’m not the perfect father nor the perfect husband. I’ve been a terrible son and maybe even a worse friend. Why should they love me? I’ve done nothing for them. I’m leaching of their kindness to help me through the days. They owe me nothing. I owe them everything. But I have nothing to give. I have nothing. I am nothing. A miserable excuse of a human being. Do I doubt my self-worth? Yes, I do. I know I have some worth, some voices try to tell me that I have worth. I try to cling on to their words. But I shouldn’t be dependent of them. I don’t know if I can trust them. There are worse voices, I know that all to well. The voices that want to see me dead, lying in a ditch, bleeding and suffocating in agony. The voices that want to see me destroy everything I’ve build and cherish.

I know I’m the last person that would deserve forgiveness. I know I’m not a person of many virtues. I’ve done many things that would condemn me. I’ve done allot of cutting, slashing, bleeding, whipping, slapping, hurting through the days to numb the pain I feel. I know I don’t deserve a place among those who are truly kind and fair. I know I don’t deserve a seat at their table, to share meals and delightful conversations. I have nothing to share because I’ve never experienced that kind of love and compassion. Am I even capable of true love? I’ve seen it many times in others but I can’t seem to find it in myself. I do not love myself. I do not love myself. I do not love myself. You do not love yourself, you hate yourself.