I wake up every morning, not in terror like I did for a large portion of 2015, but with a heaviness knowing that I’ll yet again be dodging my seemingly recurrent, never-ending passive suicidal thoughts and anxiety. How will the day pan out, will I manage to do all of the things that are expected of me? I honestly can’t even remember how I used to get up and go to work, just letting my dogs out and taking my medications uses the majority of my morning time energy now.
I fear writing here, it’s true. As a friend of mine said to me weeks ago, this place (my blog) reeks of asshat and boy howdy, how fucking true that is. I sit here and start to feel like I’m being slowly swallowed by a giant whale and I struggle to breathe.
I am writing this now because I decided to face my fear today, however insane that it might seem to some to actually have a phobia of a STUPID FUCKING BLOG.
Asshat named it originally (who recalls KOBAF?) and helped me with some of my early ideas. He was supportive of my writing at first, but it was all subterfuge. His real area of interest was getting laid behind my trusting back.
It’s not him that I miss, no. Honestly, I feel I was given a tremendous gift the day I found out about what he was doing. What upsets me the most is that I DIDN’T SEE IT.
I don’t like being played for a fool, man.
Self forgiveness comes slowly for me and trust, not to mention abandonment issues, continue to plague my almost 6 month relationship with my wonderful boyfriend Steven. He is as understanding as any man can be given that his girlfriend suffers from some major PTSD and other fun mental health diagnoses. When I have one of my panic attacks, he’s always there to calm me down, reassure me and then give me a big ass hug.
When one door closes, another one opens or some shit like that.
This will be my final post on this blog. Six years, not too shabby.
I hope all of you the best.