How I Felt Before Therapy

I need to unclog. I can’t find clarity. I can’t think straight. I can see. I can’t feel. This is trouble. What is this? I’m just going to read. Just read until I can think. Until I can feel. Until I can see again.I do feel like I’m normalizing just a bit. Enough maybe to retain my sanity. It is very frustrating to not be able to see through the cloud. Its dense and feels like it will never clear. I wonder what it is that I’m missing, not seeing? It’s so bad. I’ve felt worse, but now I hardly feel at all. Nothing. Just empty. And fucking full at the same time.



I keep saying I need help. But I don’t know how to get it. I know what makes me feel bad. I wish I knew what made me feel good. I believe I have overstepped myself by reliving some of the horrors I’ve experienced. It was bound to happen though. But I’ve left myself weak and vulnerable. Man, I thought I was stronger than this. This is more than a bump in the road. More than a road block. I certainly do not feel like I’m alive. IT’s like a numbness crawling through me. I just keep medicating. It won’t stop. And I know it won’t stop until I find a way to stop it. Writing about it did not help. Maybe I just need a guide through writing it. I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m at such a loss. In the meantime life does not stop around me. Can’t expect it to. And it’s been a real long time since this has captured me. Nothing works anymore. Not even Tequila. Not even sex. Nothing. I feel like the road ahead is so long and windy. Even saying that makes me anxious. I just keep going over the same thing over and over and over and over again. NO resolution. No comfort. NO discovery. NO better. What do I have to do to fucking fix this? How do I get out of my head again? How do I start to live again? What is the first step? I want to scream sometimes just to make sure I’m alive. I have been here before and I’ve gotten past it. But I’m back again and I don’t ever want to be back here again. THIS TIME I HAVE TO FIX IT. I’m tired. I mean in my soul, my body, my spirit, tired. Just fucking tired. I’m not insane. I’m definitely broken though. I’ve been here before and the end result has never been good. I wonder if I’ll make it back this time. I’m trying to be positive, but I just don’t feel it. I’ve been trying to do things differently. I’ve been trying to forge relationships outside of the norm. But people disappoint me. So, now it’s time for something else. What would that be? I can call the Dr. again. See if they can get me into therapy. I think that could help. I just don’t want them to medicate me. And I don’t want to go back to rehab either. I’m dying to feel again. Something good. GOOD. I run to comfort because it gives me a little nudge of happiness for a moment. But it disappears so quick. So how do I get happy enough to welcome my husband home tonight? I keep trying. I know he must really be getting tired of this. I feel awful for him. Not only am I angry all the time, I can’t seem to fall back in love with him. I do love him. I just can’t find anything else in there. I really hope that when all this is said and done that we are both happy and that we’ve both made the right decisions. I can’t even trust my instincts right now. So, give me something positive before I blow up. I’m going to make a chicken dinner. It will be chicken and roasted garlic tomato and pepper. I think I will grill it. I can make some instant mashed potatoes with it. I hate the idea. Sounds horrible. Ok, what then? SOMETHING POSITIVE! Ummm,

I give. I’m done. I’m going to grab a beer and a shot and throw my hands up. I failed yet once again. I NEED TO WRITE THESE FUCKING STORIES. I gotta turn this ship around. This titanic. So tired. So very very tired. Ok, enough purging yet? Fuck. I give. I don’t want to drink anymore. I don’t want to take Motrin anymore. I mean that. I can quit. I’m just scared. What do I do then? When I am not sucking down the alcohol? How do I cope? I look forward to it all day. But when I wake up in the morning, I say the same thing every fucking day. I don’t need this shit. Every night I’m biding my time until I can take that first shot. I hate it. I REALLY HATE IT. I need normal. I need wholesome.

This is my life. I built it. I set it up. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to cope any longer. This just sucks. Okay, I’m done. I need to fix dinner. I guess… Then take my shot.

Does anyone out there feel like I did? (and sometimes still do?)

Getting Therapy was the BEST thing I could've ever done for myself. It's been such a long and sucky road, but I'm making it now. I am crazy and I am medicated, but not because I was born that way, because it was given to me. The gift that keeps on giving.

Just thought I'd take a look back for a moment. Makes me hopeful that today I'm not in that place. I'm sober over two years now.

And as a side note, I am writing stories!


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