I get upset at things within my control. Things that I should not have let happen. Therefore I become angry at myself.
If you think about it; it’s always the little things. School work begins piling up, deadlines approach. I’m fully aware of what needs to be done, but for some reason I don’t follow through. Maybe I’m trying to shift that energy to another aspect of my life. Be it my relationship, friends, family or work; that energy is being used but not always productively.
Then I become overwhelmed by my anxieties. Everything I’ve worried about for the past 22 years rears its ugly head. There’s no legitimate reason for me to be thinking about what wrongs I’ve done in high school. That there’s some pattern developing. But I think about it. My mind becomes open without bias. For all the good I’ve done, the bad finds its way in too. It’s only the wrong that becomes amplified then brought into pinpoint focus. The process is truly painful.
I’ve always felt that I should suffer; and suffer alone. That I don’t deserve anyone who steps into my life claiming they can help. Because if I can’t help myself what are they going to do? I’m afraid when that person arrives, has me bare all, they will see I am beyond their means of help. That’s a disappointment I wish to avoid. Of course, the opposite could happen. I’m just prepared otherwise.
I’d rather the opposite to happen. I’m not hopeless; I hold onto any shred I can find. I’m not purposely sabotaging my life. In my experience, no one has really given a damn. I find it easier to help than to be helped. To just fade away when I become “too much”. If you think you can handle it, be prepared.
To borrow a line from my favorite band:
“I’m the walking wounded”