Monday, November 1, 2010
Waste Of Space
The truth is, I am ashamed about what I write in this blog. I am ashamed of who I am. I am ashamed of how I've lived. I am ashamed that no one wanted me. I am ashamed that I grew up an orphan, totally alone and unwanted. I am ashamed of how freaking crazy I really am. I don't want to be ashamed. I feel like my shame makes me crazier. If I am ashamed of my whole life, how can I get over it and move on? How can I get better? I wish there was a shame switch that I could flick off. How do I move on?
Anxiety makes me an idiot. It makes me jump to conclusions. Anxiety takes away my ability to think things through. It takes away my ability to rationalize. When I get anxious about something I act impulsively and then ALWAYS regret it once the wave passes. Why can't I just wait for the wave to pass before I act on things? I hate this about myself. It gets me into trouble a lot. It makes me angry at myself often. Right now I'm really upset with myself for making someone else feel bad for doing nothing wrong. Why do I do this? No wonder no one stays in my life for very long. I wouldn't stay in my life either. I wouldn't even be my friend. I truly am a horrible person. I just hide it really well. I'm a sociopath. I'm a selfish jerk. I'm weak. I am insane! If people only knew what goes on in my mind... I loathe myself, inside and out. My life is a waste. I am a waste of oxygen and energy. My mother wrote me an email on Thursday, my birthday, that said, "Bad things only happen to people who deserve them." In her mind, I have deserved everything that's come my way because I'm a horrible human being. Maybe she's right.
I feel like there is there something wrong with me. What is therapy doing to me? Before therapy I didn't care if there was something wrong with me. I never thought about it. Before therapy I didn't want a family, or at least I was convinced I didn't need one. Before therapy I didn't think about this all day and night. Before therapy I was fine. Therapy is ruining my self esteem. Therapy is not making me better. It's making me worse. I feel worse. My anxiety is worse. My nightmares are worse. My self harm is worse. I think about it more and act on it more often. My panic attacks are worse. My dissociation is worse. I'm worse. I understand that Therapy takes time, but I'm just not sure I have the ability to continue this way. My brain is tired. My emotional resilience has reached it's limit. How can someone be so resilient as a child and be so fragile as an adult? I'm not sure I believe my therapist when she says that I'm struggling today because I never dealt with things from my childhood. It happened so long ago. GET OVER IT ALREADY! Just fucking move on!