what I read today
Of all the Facebook posts, all the blogs, the book I'm reading, the places I went, the news I watched etc. .... this is what stood out to me, hit me in the face, rather:
what we try to repress invariably eats us alive
Oh fucking great. Not more. Oh please not more. NO MORE.
I'm so tired. I just want a normal life.
I know ... this is the mountain I must climb. When I get to the top it will be all worth it. Tonight I was so tired and worn out that I was almost suicidal. Anxiety attacks take so much out of me and I was in a constant state of anxiety from sometime on Saturday until last night and then again today.
The weekend anxiety all comes down to this. You know how when you are a little kid and Daddy comes home and you are happy to see him. You go running up to him and say "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" ... I never really had that. Dad coming home meant hell. Would he be in a good mood? If so then we would all let out a sigh of relief. If he came home in a bad mood then anything could happen. He would start in on mom and not let up. He would critisize everything and anything. I always felt so guilty, taking all the guilt on myself. Me thinking of how much I could have done to help mom or taken on things myself. Now things start to spiral on myself I get in the same position. It is as if my dad is yelling at me in my head all over again. I carry that with me constantly, except I can't hear it. It has gone underground. It is so deep that I don't know if I can ever recover. It is so unbelievably hard.
what we try to repress invariably eats us alive
Oh fucking great. Not more. Oh please not more. NO MORE.
I'm so tired. I just want a normal life.
I know ... this is the mountain I must climb. When I get to the top it will be all worth it. Tonight I was so tired and worn out that I was almost suicidal. Anxiety attacks take so much out of me and I was in a constant state of anxiety from sometime on Saturday until last night and then again today.
The weekend anxiety all comes down to this. You know how when you are a little kid and Daddy comes home and you are happy to see him. You go running up to him and say "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" ... I never really had that. Dad coming home meant hell. Would he be in a good mood? If so then we would all let out a sigh of relief. If he came home in a bad mood then anything could happen. He would start in on mom and not let up. He would critisize everything and anything. I always felt so guilty, taking all the guilt on myself. Me thinking of how much I could have done to help mom or taken on things myself. Now things start to spiral on myself I get in the same position. It is as if my dad is yelling at me in my head all over again. I carry that with me constantly, except I can't hear it. It has gone underground. It is so deep that I don't know if I can ever recover. It is so unbelievably hard.