I'm just writing this to get it out. I don't expect anyone to read it or care, but I don't want to let it fester inside me anymore. I wondered if posting here might help. I was supposed to go on vacation in a week and a half. I've been looking forward to it for a year now -- work has been so tough, and my personal life is a disaster...and that's where the problem comes in. My husband and I aren't getting along at all anymore. He announced he does not want to spend the vacation with me. If
Just disjointed thoughts. I was briefly thinking that things in my life were getting better, but that's simply not the case. It's all just back to being a mess, me being unhappy, stressed over the stupidest things, having nightmares, etc. Really wondering why I try -- and why I ever think anything will change. Got promoted at work. I'd thought I'd be a little more relaxed if it happened, but I'm not. Always putting more pressure on myself. Always handling things wrong. Went to dinner with
It happens pretty much every day. I'll say something. These days, it could be just about anything. The minute the words are out of my mouth, I'll know. They were wrong. I was wrong. I want to claw those words back, erase them, pull them out of the air before you hear them. Too late. Always too late. And then your words start. All that hatred, pouring out. Not careless words, like mine. Carefully chosen. Impeccably planned to cut me. And they don't stop. You don't stop, ever. I t
I keep vowing that I'm not going to do this anymore. "This" being: (1) crying and moping about my train wreck of a life, since I'm the one who was steering the train the whole way; (2) obsessing over how to fix things that can't be fixed; and (3) posting about all of it on the internet, thus taking the chance that someone I know sees it and recognizes me by the scraps of personal information that make it through. But I keep doing this anyway, because it's easier than anything else. Easier than
I'm in hell, and I can't get out. There's no escape. I can't make my relationship better. I can't end it. I can't make my life better. I can't end it. My heart is breaking. When I try to make things better I fail. When I try to make me better I fail. When I try to stop caring I fail. I'm all alone and I'm screaming and no one hears and no one cares and I can't do this anymore.
My whole life, I've tried to be something more than what I am. Be a good daughter, so my parents will be happy with me even though they didn't want me. It didn't work. All I ever was was a disappointment to them. I've tried to be the kind of person people like. Didn't work. I'm too awkward, too shy, too closed-off. I've tried to be a good wife. I'm not. I'm too self-centered, too emotional, too needy. I've tried to be a good person, tried to resolve my issues, tried to overcome my demon
I'm alternating between freaking out and numbly wishing myself dead. My marriage is at an all-time low. As my husband puts it, we're at war. He wants nothing to do with me, yet we have to coexist. My emotions are out of control -- over the weekend, I resorted back to self-harm, which I haven't done in a long time. Now I feel ashamed and disgusting. Tonight, I get to have dinner with my parents. I don't know how I'm going to get through it. I spent the past two years in therapy, dredging u
I want to figure out the precise combination of xanax and wine that will let me just sleep, deeply and dreamlessly and for a long, long time. But I don't. I want to scream at everyone around me to shut up, to leave me alone. But I don't. I want to push something sharp into the skin of my arm and feel all the pain in my mind and my heart and my soul collect there and flow out of me. But I don't. I want to beg someone, anyone, to care about me. But I don't. I want to start crying, and never
So, for the past two days, I've felt, constantly, like I'm on the edge of a panic attack...nervous, jumpy, short of breath. Feel like something horrible is lurking behind me, like something awful is about to happen to me, like I'm about to do something bad...I don't know. I've had panic attacks before. This is not the same. I've tried to understand why I'm feeling this way, to gain some insight into it -- but I don't get what's causing it. I've tried to breathe through it, but it just comes
So...this morning's therapy session: Me: I'm really upset. This morning, my husband was talking about what a selfish, self-centered person I am. And he's right. All I do is think about my thoughts and my feelings and how much I hurt, and then I lash out at him and treat him like crap. I keep acting like a person I don't want to be, and I can't seem to stop. Her (clearly upset): I'm concerned about whether you can be safe. Me: I don't understand. I'm perfectly safe. I'm just really h
I have had enough. Enough of hating myself, the demons that live inside me, and trying to fix it and failing and once again behaving like someone I don't even recognize. Enough of therapy and therapists who alternate between: (1) wanting to pour medication down my throat; and (2) and telling me it will all be OK if I just learn to be kind to myself. Enough of being told to "work through" my past, which just means digging up old memories of all the ways my parents neglected and abused me and gav
I've built myself a prison, brick by brick. Every brick has a name: self-loathing, overwhelming emotions, lack of trust, fear, pretense. I knew what I was doing as I built it, but I could not stop. Back when it was only half built, I used to dream about things that aren't out of reach for a lot of people. A loving relationship, a couple of friends, a little happiness more days than not. Now I only dream about the end. Not suicide -- I'd just screw that up too. But...a burst blood vessel
