“…speak no more:
Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.”
Act 3 Scene 4.
My goal of 2010 with no panic attacks crashed and burned today. I’m terrified. I don’t want to leave the house. I’m so close to throwing everything away. Why? Because I’m full of back emotional holes that are eating me alive. I’d give anything for it to stop. I wish I could just stop. No, I’m not saying I’m about to take a dive off a railroad bridge or anything… but sometimes I wish I could just… pause… feel peace… stop fighting the bad guys… the demons inside my own head. Do I know why this is happening to me? Sure, but I don’t know how to beat it, and some days I don’t think I’m worth a fight.
I wish I could just block it out… a bar… and a few bottles of vodka are starting to look really frikking good. The rational part of me knows I only crave vodi when my head is spinning and I’m screwed up about something. I can’t start down that road not even one step. I’m scared of myself.
I spent the day trying to push this urge away, drown it out. Hell I almost begged Gadget Guy to stay at his machine and call me, frightened to even let him leave to grab some breakfast for goodness sake. I shook, my heart racing, my head just hurting, fighting the urge to throw up… fighting the urge to stop talking, stop telling someone about the things inside my head and just leave. Finally, I feel asleep. Thank you God. I woke up three or so hours later feeling physically well, turned to my usual chick flick Bewitched style TV; something cheerful and fun that I don’t have to think about to much. Don’t need to focus to understand. I watched a few episodes of Glee. Now I can’t tell you if I love this show or hate it. I can’t make my mind up, but I do know as a distraction it worked well. I might have to add the DVD’s to the Bewitched shelf of shame reserved for just these occasions.
I want to hold on so badly: to the future I’m trying to build, to the belief I’m a better than this. I’m worth more but it would be so easy to just let go. Dear God… somebody… hold me and don’t let me go…
I know I sound like a melodramatic basket case with a bad case of the emo. I’ll explain… I’ll try. I want to talk. Tonight I just don’t have the time or mental faculties for a long and complicated story that I don’t really understand….