Good Luck With That

I know myself well enough to know when my body is telling me to pay attention to something my mind is ignoring. I get tense. I get anxious.

My body is screaming at me. I logged on tonight in search of relief but I feel as though the opposite is about to happen. I'm holding my breath. That only happens when I'm reaching the brink of a panic attack. It's like I'm afraid to move, lest breathing throw me over the edge.

I'm not good enough. I'm just not. Why did I ever think I would be good enough? Like if I worked hard enough it would erase who I had become? Yeah right. I'm always going to be just as messed up in the future as I was/am... pick your tense. Past? Present? FOREVER.

I laugh at myself. Silly, stupid girl. You think you can do this? You are but a child yourself. You still view yourself as a 13 year old. You still seek approval in the most pathetic of ways. You still carry the black mark of abuse. You struggle with depression. You struggle with intrusive thoughts. You struggle with self-harm.

And you want to be someone's mother?

Yeah. Good luck with that.

Not Every Day Is Good

Not every day is going to be a good day. I could hug my doctor for telling me that last week, because in my mind, if every day is not a good day that means I am not going to get better.

Today was not a good day. I woke up hideously anxious, which generally does not progress well because the events of the day tend to ramp me up even more.

Sure enough, by 10AM I was so anxious I was tipping on the edge of hyperventilating. I had made an appointment to go back to the chiropractor since my upper back has been bothering me since the surgery. I figured it was because I had been walking through the halls of school somewhat hunched over and guarding myself from the hundreds of teenagers not paying attention to where they are going/running in the halls. That shame voice immediately sprang into action and made me feel even worse about going. "You don't need to go, you're being dramatic, you just want attention, you're only wasting your money." So of course that made me even more anxious, fighting with myself basically. (I did go and after one adjustment I do feel better!)

I got home and toyed with the idea of going to go workout, but having taken 6 weeks off for surgery, then re-starting this Sunday and working out for 3 days in a row, I was feeling very sore. I know my muscles needed a break. Cue shame voice. "You're getting ready to go on vacation, you won't be exercising a lot, you're going to gain weight, you're being lazy." So I grappled with this and ramped up my anxiety even more. I ended up taking a nap with the option to revisit when I woke up... but apparently I was tired and slept til almost 5!

I was supposed to take my cat to my mom's house tonight so she can watch her while I'm gone, but she ended up working late and asked me to do it tomorrow before my flight. Not really a problem, but I immediately started thinking about all the things I have to do tomorrow before I leave and I started adding to my already peaked anxiety. Enter shame voice again. "You should have done your laundry earlier. Now you can't go work out in the morning because you have to drive to (hometown). You haven't even cleaned up the apartment yet. Way to wait til the last minute."

My cousin (K) called to confirm my flight info and we started talking about what the schedule looks like for the next 7 days. Her first question for me was if I wanted to go to a nightclub with her tomorrow night for a few hours. Holy crap, bells, whistles, steam, anxiety x 1030835. My social anxiety has gotten increasingly worse since starting this medication and the idea of being in a room full of drunk strangers touching me is enough to put me in tears. I told her I didn't want to do that. Thankfully she knows quite a bit about the past two years of my life (the only one in my family who does) and she is caring enough to even ask! I am so thankful for that. The more we talked though, the more anxious I got because I have so little control over the next week.

I know everything is going to be fine, and that in the moment I'm going to be having so much fun with my family I won't be feeling all of this... but the fact that it all is racing through my head now is just fueling my anxiety. Shame voice and no control makes for a night of panic attacks. Ugh.

Hard Times

I am having a hard time taking care of myself.

I'm not eating, I'm cutting, I'm beating myself down.

I am having a hard time believing that I am worth anything to anyone.

The shame of the abuse and my secret being discovered Tuesday is messing with my mind. It's distorting my thoughts.

I am having a hard time locating God's spirit in me right now.

How many challenges can I possibly face before I crumble under the pressure? I feel lost.

I am having a hard time wanting to keep going on this path.

I'm tired. I want to rest.

I Can't Be Myself

It's your fault they found you.

It's your fault that you weren't careful enough.

Last night I sat down to work a bit on my homework. I just felt pulled to my computer to begin this letter to myself. I tried to remember what exactly the goal was and tried to logically think my way through the many aspects of my life that longed to be on the page in front of me. After going that route for a while, I erased it all. This letter is not supposed to be logical and precise. It is supposed to be from the heart. I was using the wrong organ (muscle? is the brain considered a muscle?). I thought of everything that hurt me, from birth to high school, all involving some aspect of my parents inaction/neglect as well as the abuse. I don't know how many times I wrote the phrase "I'm sorry" to myself. It's a lot. But still not as many times as I should have heard it from my parents. No, there aren't enough of those in the world.

Finding The Reason

Ugh.

I had a panic attack in session today in the midst of discussing my need to cut lately. I can't pinpoint anything specific that caused me to cut Friday night, but I went looking through drawers and boxes because my cuticle scissors weren't going to be good enough. I found some straight raz.ors in my toolbox I didn't even know I had and cut more in one night than I ever have.

I knew by revealing this that I was setting myself up for being asked to commit to no cutting this week, but she also threw in asking me to throw away my raz.ors. Immediate panic set in. I can't do that yet. Knowing they are there serves as a comfort even if I don't use them. I just don't think I WANT to do that yet. For whatever reason I have convinced myself that this is what I have to do in order to feel better and I just don't have the desire to change it, even though I know I should.

Ugh.

John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

I've been running from this for over 10 years. I'm tired. For whatever reason, I can't run this time. I've tried pushing it back as I've always done before but I can't. This last week has been bad for me, Thursday especially. I met up with RF again and had an anxiety attack when I got home. I'm not ready. I haven't come to terms with it. I can't trust anyone until I get some help.

I went and talked to C, the counselor for my students. I love that woman. She is like a mother to me. I have never met someone so amazing. She will do anything she can to help anyone, no matter what the cost. She is going to help me find someone that can help me move on.

There is a certain peace I have felt the past few days knowing that I'm ready to face this but it scares me a lot. I never made any progress in counseling before because I was never ready. I'm pretty sure I am now. I can't let this eat away at me forever. There is no shame in asking for help... and that was (still is) very hard for me to realize.