i have to be honest, right? i did make a commitment to put it all out there, not for catharsis nor attention, but to overcome my own crippling fear of judgment and rejection. everything – absolutely everything – is bearable as long as i’m not rejected. i need to get over that. tonight for some reason it’s okay i don’t know maybe the shame tomorrow will make me take this post down.
2009 was tough. really tough. there were many beautiful and good moments, more than enough, and overall, i’m progressing achieving accomplishing. i can see and rationalise that.
there was also a lot of rocking the lowest self-esteem i’ve had in my life. dealing with depression that only seemed to get worse the more i ignored it. breaking down so often, clinging onto others, my nailmarks leaving deep scratch wounds in their skin as i fought to hold on. the ones who gave me more than i had any right to take from them. wake-up call recently. i’m still going under but i seem hellbent on not doing it solo. bent on bringing others into my own personal hell. i love them too much to hurt them like that more than i’ve hurt them so far.
i had this arrogant belief in my ability to survive, a conviction that i was the lone warrior, i didn’t need help. and then i thought that i did, and i asked for it, wanted to depend on it, relied on someone else to clear my passageways, breathe for me.
i’ve never felt this weak and helpless before. today and yesterday i felt it in my body each step painful but i’m so numb i can barely make the effort to connect mental and physical. i now understand why people cut i don’t do it to the physical but everyday i drag that blade deeper through the mental without allowing it to scar. and then i bleed over someone else.
i hurt. so i hurt others. then i watch them hurt and i hurt even more at seeing them hurt. i have to stop but i can’t but i will. now. i’m disconnecting going through the motions today tomorrow day after. until after the middle of next week. and then nothingness. disconnect to re-treat re-form.
i’m weary of the anger. 30 wasn’t supposed to be like this. 2010 wasn’t supposed to begin this way. too much to repair too much to re-pare. too much pain to reap here. i can barely type this.
i would promise i won’t hurt [you] anymore but i can’t commit to an expectation. i can barely commit to posting this.