
WinterFaust
Shimmer
- Apr 13, 2020
- 412
Sometimes private journaling is not enough and as loathe as I am to admit it I need to be seen right now.
I'm tired. I'm tired of the grief from losing people a year ago that I just can't shake. It's embarrassing to not only be left behind physically but also mentally and emotionally. To them, I'm forgotten but for me the wound is ever present. I'm 26. Where are my emotional regulation skills? Why can't I move beyond my shame, guilt, and regret? I'm tired of the ruminating thoughts that remind me of the mistakes I've made, how truly pathetic I am for not being able to pick myself up.
I'm tired of being alone. The loneliness hurts so much and it's embarrassing. I used to enjoy solitude. But it's different when you can't away from it, when it's not a choice. Why can't I be self-sufficient? Why can't I just do what I need to do, get out bed, figure out how to work again? Why can't I figure out how to be okay by myself?
But it's just me. I live in a home where I'm despised by my mother because I'm not functional. I can't ctb here, I can't die here. For the ounce of pride I have left, I can't die in a place where my very existence has been hated since I was a child. But I'm so tired and even the few moments I'm not, I just can't do what I need to do to get out of here. How did I even fuck up bad enough to end up back here? I hate being here. I hate her and her disdain. I hate hearing her talk on the phone or slam a door. I have never felt comfortable here. And that makes me hole up in my room even more. I already struggle with completing tasks necessary for my basic well being but when I know my mom is home, I'll stay in my room to avoid her for hours. I won't eat until she's gone, sometimes I won't even use the restroom. It's weird and strange, I know. But stranger still is that I haven't left this house in months (long before covid), that I've been unable to use my complete and utter discomfort as fuel to get me the hell out of here. I want to leave, I've been trying to take the steps to get there but I just... Can't. My mother calls it laziness among other things.
I've spent my entire life feeling utterly exhausted or stuck, defective and unable to move. Even during the very rare moments where I'm not depressed, I've struggled with this. Something is really wrong here. And I'm so tired of being like this. I don't know how to help myself. I don't know why I can't just recover, why I keep breaking down, why I feel so scattered.
I'm alone. And I need to care for myself and figure out a way out of this. But it just hurts and I'm tired. Am I really going to die here without managing to get myself to safety, for a breather? Will I die being the failure that I've been all my life?
I don't know. I don't know anything. I'm tired of being this broken and pathetic. It's been so lonely.
I'm tired. I'm tired of the grief from losing people a year ago that I just can't shake. It's embarrassing to not only be left behind physically but also mentally and emotionally. To them, I'm forgotten but for me the wound is ever present. I'm 26. Where are my emotional regulation skills? Why can't I move beyond my shame, guilt, and regret? I'm tired of the ruminating thoughts that remind me of the mistakes I've made, how truly pathetic I am for not being able to pick myself up.
I'm tired of being alone. The loneliness hurts so much and it's embarrassing. I used to enjoy solitude. But it's different when you can't away from it, when it's not a choice. Why can't I be self-sufficient? Why can't I just do what I need to do, get out bed, figure out how to work again? Why can't I figure out how to be okay by myself?
But it's just me. I live in a home where I'm despised by my mother because I'm not functional. I can't ctb here, I can't die here. For the ounce of pride I have left, I can't die in a place where my very existence has been hated since I was a child. But I'm so tired and even the few moments I'm not, I just can't do what I need to do to get out of here. How did I even fuck up bad enough to end up back here? I hate being here. I hate her and her disdain. I hate hearing her talk on the phone or slam a door. I have never felt comfortable here. And that makes me hole up in my room even more. I already struggle with completing tasks necessary for my basic well being but when I know my mom is home, I'll stay in my room to avoid her for hours. I won't eat until she's gone, sometimes I won't even use the restroom. It's weird and strange, I know. But stranger still is that I haven't left this house in months (long before covid), that I've been unable to use my complete and utter discomfort as fuel to get me the hell out of here. I want to leave, I've been trying to take the steps to get there but I just... Can't. My mother calls it laziness among other things.
I've spent my entire life feeling utterly exhausted or stuck, defective and unable to move. Even during the very rare moments where I'm not depressed, I've struggled with this. Something is really wrong here. And I'm so tired of being like this. I don't know how to help myself. I don't know why I can't just recover, why I keep breaking down, why I feel so scattered.
I'm alone. And I need to care for myself and figure out a way out of this. But it just hurts and I'm tired. Am I really going to die here without managing to get myself to safety, for a breather? Will I die being the failure that I've been all my life?
I don't know. I don't know anything. I'm tired of being this broken and pathetic. It's been so lonely.