I have had a bad few days.
A really, incredibly, fucked up few days.
I thought therapy would go well tonight, and honestly, if I had kept my fucking mouth shut, it would have. It would’ve been fine. But I tried to open up.
And every single fucking time I do that, when shit gets real, it doesn’t end well. It just doesn’t.
I’m 100% not okay right not. I’ll be real, I’ll be straight up, I’m struggling.
I hate myself. More than anyone could ever fathom.
Yes, I blame myself.
Yes, I know I’m a fuck up!!!!!!!
And yes, I know everything is my fault. Literally always.
I should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut.
I understand, I do. At this point, it’s easy enough for me to understand when someone is coming from a place or something that looks and feels like anger or disappointment or disgust…but isn’t.
But still. Despite forcing myself to “understand”. Despite forcing myself not to give up. Not to assume worst case scenario.
Lol. Secure attachments and all that shit.
Despite all of the logic I’m trying to FORCE my brain to absorb.
I don’t feel good. I do not feel okay.
It’s my own fault, and that’s the one and only thing I heard loud and fucking clear.
I feel so alone. I’m flooded with memories that I don’t want to be flooded with.
I’m fucking alone.
Physically, my husband is still out of state. I got the opposite of what I needed tonight, from the people I needed it from the most.
I don’t want to see tomorrow. I feel so fucking broken.
I’ll be fine. Because I always fucking am.
But I am broken.
A lot of bad things have happened these past few days and weeks. With shit truly hitting the fan last night.
And I thought I’d be okay. I thought I’d easily get past it. Smile through the pain and it doesn’t fucking exist, right?
Turns out, not only was I completely wrong, but now the Only good and stable parts of my life that have existed recently, no longer feel good or stable.
And that, out of everything that’s gone is, is truly the worst feeling of them all.
Things are bad.
I’m in a bad headspace. And I want to give up. I’m alone in every definition of the word possible. And do you know how truly scary that is?
I hope not. I sincerely hope not.
If tonight went better, I think I’d be okay.
But tonight went how it went.
And it left me feeling fucking disgusting and bad and at fault.
I hate myself.
And I just don’t need any help in hating myself more than I already do.
This is the beginning of a bad, bad downward spiral for me.
And it could’ve been so different.
I held it together until tonight, until I couldn’t.
I know you don’t care. I know I’m no one’s job or responsibility or problem.
But I am full on breaking down right now.
Because not only am I retraumatized and fragile and hurting….
But now I’m blaming myself for it. Now, I have the voice in my fucking head that it’s my fault. That I wasn’t good enough. That I should’ve done more or different or anything else.
Fine. It’s my fault. I’ll own it.
And that’s that part that’s sending me down this path of darkness.
I’ll be fine.
I always am.
She says, while alone in every sense of the word, when ALL she fucking needs is a hug.
What I want to say, if I only felt like it mattered enough to say, would be this – Regardless of what you said, what I heard was that it was my fault, and that I did everything wrong. And all I can think about now is that you hate me and I’m a huge, massive fuck up and this “secure” relationship that I’ve been trying so hard to believe in just…isn’t. And that alone is enough to break me.
I feel shattered. I feel broken.
For so many reasons than I can’t explain.
I can not make it through another experience like this.
Not when it feels like this.
I’ll be fine.
But I’m feeling very done.
I just need a fucking hug.