Is hope gone?

My ability to trust others is lessening. My thoughts are circling. My best friend to whom had been there through some of the worst events of my life has left me to fend for myself over a significant other. Having Borderline Personality Disorder makes me question the friendship at all. When he said, “guys are only friends with girls because they secretly want to be with them,” a clue to him secretly wanting to be with me again. This was years ago spoken to me. When I said he only keeps me around because of my dog or you love my dog more than me was his lack of response clues to truth?

How can someone who had been there for me and I there for him be so careless? All because of a girl? The question isn’t whether I would be his friend again anymore, as that ship has passed but how will I trust another person without thinking the worse of them?

It’s difficult for me to express feelings to others anymore, when care or concern from those who are supposed to protect you had failed me so many times. I know I cannot be alone in life as I will whither and do myself in so the question becomes how do I let others in again? How do people do this? Women have always been difficult for me since my mother and sister were so belittling, uncaring, with the inability to embrace me. How badly I want a hug from someone so I can just cry in their arms.

My best friend was the only person I had fully trusted with all sides of me without prejudice. It took me 32 years to find a person to feel that comfort with and thinking there was no alternative motive, but now its been tainted. That thought. I had my father, but prying ears were always around so we couldn’t speak freely. Many times we understood each other without words spoken.

I am lonely and want, so badly, to have that confidant. I have attempted with my long-time friends wife but its not there. I fear this world and what it is becoming and how I will be venturing it on my own. I don’t care anymore. I lived my life preparing for a single life. Preparing for a sperm donor so I could have a kid, but with the pandemic and people’s demeanors, it makes me question bringing a child into this hateful world. That leaves me alone again.

What was the house I bought for? What has going for a doctorate been for? I did these things so I could provide for a child and without that goal, what is there really? I have prayed to God and Christ to fill me with his unconditional love, but I have yet to feel it. Have I lost the ability to feel altogether? I have no interests in being with someone, as I have lost hope of finding someone I can open up to truly. So where does that leave me?

I am told I have a beautiful heart. I am told I have wonderful insight. I am told I care deeply for others feelings. A wise mind. A talented person. And so much more, but I have lost my passions. I still am those things but I have no passions anymore. Sure, I have goals, but it wouldn’t break my heart if I didn’t reach them anymore. I have lost care for life.

It’s sad really how much someone can take away from you. Three and a half years ago I was waiting for my interview to get into a Psy.D in Clinical Psychology program, looking forward to the trials it would bring. Three weeks prior to interview I was assaulted, by my half-brother, he made sure to distinguish the half part. My mother didn’t want me to report it. At first she cared but the tentacles of his manipulation raveled  around her and what happened to me no longer mattered. It was protecting him that was important, not his girls and the damage he had done already to a step-daughter nor myself.

We didn’t matter. Imagine being 6 years old and wondering if your family cares about you. You place your foot out into the road hoping to get it run over by a car, just so you would know. Six years old and not knowing who loved you or whether you were ever loved at all. My dad loved me, that is for certain, but the level of love has always been questioning. After all, he left us for a woman, but my mother was unloving, so why wouldn’t he? But, at age 14 that woman holds yourself and your father hostage. After the trauma and a glimmer of hope of love from the same day when you came home to your sister and mom where they hugged you, you were left to yourself. My father still with her, until the day he died.

Always by myself. No one to speak about my feelings without being told you should seek professional help. No one to talk to about my day or what I was learning in school because no one cared to hear nor ask. Even when someone may ask, I give the generic it was okay or fine. I use to go into a story but the boredom of the answer was apparent on the faces of those I told. One day my mom found interest in a TV show that was about psychology, my major in college. I was ecstatic to finally be able to speak about it and when she paused the show as I spoke she said, “I will look it up, I don’t want you to tell me about it.” Hope crashed yet again.

What is the point to this life? God being in my life I can only assume it is limbo. A place with good and evil, but the evil surrounds me. I try to hold tight to my buddy and his wife since his family is amazing. Even through trials and tribulation they are there for one another. They have family gatherings weekly and when I am invited I embrace it and dream to have it as my own one day.

It reminds me of the days when I would get excited about a holiday like Christmas or Thanksgiving and it be ruined by fighting, yelling, drunkards, etc. I would walk around the neighborhood, peering in on others as they celebrate with their families. Looking happy to be with one another. New years I would hear the grand old song and follow the singing and whisper it outside as I watched from afar. When I was a teenager I would look up at the stars and find solace in the thought that someone out there in the world is looking at the same stars and feeling the same way I do at this very moment. Whether it was true or not is beyond a mystery but given the population size, I would say the probability is high.

Is someone, right now writing in a journal, hoping to find an answer to their pain and suffering? Wanting for something to happen so badly that brings them back a sense of hope in their life? Something that can give them meaning? Something that can take the thoughts of self-harm away because all hope seems gone? That hope is what keeps me going. Suicide was an action I had attempted previously but something good always came afterwards. Does it take action for the good to come? I hope not because I truly do not want to. I want to be proven wrong. So. Very. Badly.