abject misery

This whole situation has been catastrophically horrible for me, and I don't know why it's so difficult to explain why. It's so easy to lose sight of the details and in turn how they conspire to destroy my mental health. It's so easy to not think about it, so as to conclude I should be ok and just need to keep going.

I'm not ok. I will never be ok here. I will never get over this. What I was accomplishing in Vermont has been my life's work. Everything I was doing was about repairing a lifetime of damage. It was a long slow arduous process, obliterated by being forced to leave. Everyone who thought making me leave Vermont wasn't a brutal miserable thing to do can fuck off forever. Literally. Not to mention forcing me to throw out everything I owned. My family in Vermont is dead to me.

I keep trying to pick up the pieces and stay focused, but the only thing that motivates me being what I can accomplish that will serve me when I'm back in Vermont. Any progress I make at the gym is all about how it might help me perform at my old gym. I have no interest in accomplishing anything here. My only motivation is what I can bring back with me, when I get my life back. 

I don't know when that will be, if ever. This is a feeble immiserating sort of motivation. I'm torn between clinging to it, because it's all I have, and letting go. I can't do this anymore. I can't function in spite of how much pain I'm in. I want to collapse into survival mode where I have no ambitions but easing the pain, knowing damn well that only brings worse pain in the long run.

I miss having ambition. I miss having goals. I miss everything I was trying to do. I miss all the people I was trying to do it with, everyone I was trying to do it for. I have nothing left but this vague hope for a future where I can get it back. I can't live like this. 

I hate myself for not being stronger, more resilient, more independent. I hate that all I can do is suffer, desperately hoping someone will save me, because I have nothing else to hope for. I hate that I never formed enough of a connection with anyone to stay in touch or turn to for help. All the people I left behind just carrying on with their lives, neither knowing nor caring how much they mattered to me.