Doubts about my sanity lately. Not really, but kinda. Been going days without sleeping, then sleeping for days. Falling asleep sitting up, 4 hours after sleeping for 18 hours. Then sleeping for 12 more hours.
I feel so overwhelmed and unable to deal. I can't even break my burdens down anymore. It's all one big solid chunk of immovable granite. No baby steps because my feet are hobbled. No "one bite at a time" because my appetite is gone. Tomorrow is never another day because it's always today, always the same failures, only the leaves on the trees outside my window ever change. I keep reminding myself that none of this matters. People don't matter and are always replaced, places don't matter because you make do with wherever you end up, animals....animals still matter, but they're not supposed to because they're just animals.
I am sick of my sorrow, sick of my need, sick of feeling like I'm special because I'm so lonely and afraid and in so much trouble. I am sick of my inability to rally my strength for any sustained period of time. I'm sick of feeling ashamed of being a sucker, a dupe. I hate my apparently endless capacity to love and forgive. I hate my hatred. I hate that I'm not afraid of my death anymore. I hate that I don't have life insurance. I hate knowing that I'd do it all over again despite knowing that it will always end the same way. I hate that I get credit for doing the things that come easy to me because it just makes me hate myself even more for being such an utter failure at the easy tasks in life. I can't answer my phone. I can't open my mail. I can't pick up that piece of paper. I can't get out of bed. I can't stop crying. I feel hollow, I feel shut down, I feel like I don't care anymore, but that can't be true because I am still crying. I hate how much I miss my sister-in-law and my nephew and my brother-in-law and his wife, because I hate the way my idiotic fear of hearing a single word about D's wonderful new life makes me unable to pick up the phone and call them. It doesn't matter. Of course he's happy. Of course he's moved on. Of course I never meant a damn thing. So what? Big deal, happens every day, world without end. Move along. Nothing to see here. I hate that my emotions are impervious to my intellect. My mind is mighty, my heart is a grinning gullible fool. Lie to me, I promise I'll believe.
I would give all of myself to make things right, to follow through, to show up, to get this done. But there's nothing left of me. I'm hollowed out, my insides are scraped clean, and I have nothing to show for it. My efforts to build my life only served to knock it down. I have so much, I know I do. I've been so blessed, but it's barely in my grasp now. My grip is failing. I should just let go, but I never will. I hate that I am only stubborn up to a point.
I am so fucking sick of myself. This is all just noise. I am ashamed of these words. But notice I still click "Post."
I feel so overwhelmed and unable to deal. I can't even break my burdens down anymore. It's all one big solid chunk of immovable granite. No baby steps because my feet are hobbled. No "one bite at a time" because my appetite is gone. Tomorrow is never another day because it's always today, always the same failures, only the leaves on the trees outside my window ever change. I keep reminding myself that none of this matters. People don't matter and are always replaced, places don't matter because you make do with wherever you end up, animals....animals still matter, but they're not supposed to because they're just animals.
I am sick of my sorrow, sick of my need, sick of feeling like I'm special because I'm so lonely and afraid and in so much trouble. I am sick of my inability to rally my strength for any sustained period of time. I'm sick of feeling ashamed of being a sucker, a dupe. I hate my apparently endless capacity to love and forgive. I hate my hatred. I hate that I'm not afraid of my death anymore. I hate that I don't have life insurance. I hate knowing that I'd do it all over again despite knowing that it will always end the same way. I hate that I get credit for doing the things that come easy to me because it just makes me hate myself even more for being such an utter failure at the easy tasks in life. I can't answer my phone. I can't open my mail. I can't pick up that piece of paper. I can't get out of bed. I can't stop crying. I feel hollow, I feel shut down, I feel like I don't care anymore, but that can't be true because I am still crying. I hate how much I miss my sister-in-law and my nephew and my brother-in-law and his wife, because I hate the way my idiotic fear of hearing a single word about D's wonderful new life makes me unable to pick up the phone and call them. It doesn't matter. Of course he's happy. Of course he's moved on. Of course I never meant a damn thing. So what? Big deal, happens every day, world without end. Move along. Nothing to see here. I hate that my emotions are impervious to my intellect. My mind is mighty, my heart is a grinning gullible fool. Lie to me, I promise I'll believe.
I would give all of myself to make things right, to follow through, to show up, to get this done. But there's nothing left of me. I'm hollowed out, my insides are scraped clean, and I have nothing to show for it. My efforts to build my life only served to knock it down. I have so much, I know I do. I've been so blessed, but it's barely in my grasp now. My grip is failing. I should just let go, but I never will. I hate that I am only stubborn up to a point.
I am so fucking sick of myself. This is all just noise. I am ashamed of these words. But notice I still click "Post."
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