Wednesday, September 7, 2011

It's baaaaaack......

The nausea. The headaches. The unrelenting sadness. The beat-you-down, tear-you-apart, leave-you-begging unrelenting sadness. It's back and I don't know why. WHY? I do everything I am supposed to do. I take my mobile pharmacy of medicine. I go to my weekly therapy sessions and can honestly say they're working. Or at least, I leave and am feeling better about things, but maybe it's because talking about things is abstract? It's so easy to talk isn't it. It's so easy to guess at why things are happening in life. Why the people in your life are behaving how they are behaving toward you or why are you exhibiting certain behaviors? Well, it could be a million different things all of which are so easy to talk about. All of which are hard as hell to implement change in real life.

Maybe it's not the stuff I talk about though. Maybe the stuff killing me is the stuff I don't talk about. Even in the room I pay for to talk about anything and everything in. The room I can dump my darkest secrets into and there they stay locked up. But, like people, maybe I just don't trust the room. I don't trust the four walls to keep my secrets. Why not? I wish I could answer. It's like there are things I need to get off of my chest, but I don't know who to tell. Who do you turn to when there's no one to turn to? Maybe if I just stood in a room and just said it out loud? Maybe just purging it would make me feel better. I don't have to keep it all inside where it's ready to burst out almost all the time. My secret is not life altering. No one is going to want to hurt someone. It's probably the stupidest thing ever. But I've blown it up completely out of control.

So, for now I'm losing my footing. The ground is slipping from under me. The darkness is again descending upon me at possibly the worst time.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Saturday, September 3, 2011

'Til death do us part, eh?

Which of us will go first?!?!


Thursday, September 1, 2011

Mama Kat's Losin' It Writing Prompt September 1, 2011: Write about a time you disappointed yourself

2.) Write about a time you disappointed yourself.

Well, this isn't a difficult writing prompt is it? I write about it all the time. My life seems to be a constant disappointment to myself. The more difficult prompt might be "write about a time you were proud of yourself". But, I digress. Most recently, I suppose, I've been obsessing about something. There really is no other way to describe it. Obsession is kind of what I do. I get it into my head and then think about it until it's all I can think about and then I've blown it completely out of proportion and what it began as was nothing more than a passing comment or a glance or a touch and now I've thought it to death. What the hell is wrong with me? I really do want to be like normal people. (Though, who gets to decide what's normal, right?) I just can't get this out of my head and I can't write it down and I can't talk about it because I don't think my family or friends would understand. Or they probably wouldn't understand what I've blown up a nothing into. They would probably understand the nothing. How funny. But I can't go back to the nothing. It's already gone. I occasionally think about when it was nothing, but my brain has the incredible, surprisingly super-fast ability to fast-forward to what everything has exploded into and all of a sudden I can't even see what all of this began as.

So disappointed in myself, yet again. Just one more thing to add to the rapidly increasing pile of things I do or have do and probably will do to disappoint myself.