I’m debating whether I should toss my journals from the past 20 years or so. There aren’t many of them so it’s not a matter of storage. My biggest concern is, what happens to those words after I die? Will whoever cleans up my belongings, read them?
I don’t feel relief when I go through those books. I’m embarrassed and ashamed, to be honest. I’m still struggling with the same issues and haven’t made any progress.
I have also said some not-so-nice things about others.
Oh wait, I have made some progress I guess. I’m not blaming others for my misery; I’m taking full responsibility baby. People that are close to me, friends and family, have hurt me. Their words, actions and even non-actions burned indelible impressions in my psyche. But, I’ve forgiven them all. I know they love me unconditionally and they did the best they could. I’m sure I have hurt those same people in return through my own words, actions and non-actions (ie, what I didn’t do).
There is a chance I will live another 30, 40 years. However, should I be smoked by a bus tomorrow, what are the consequences of those words, should anyone read them?
I’d rather not have anyone know how miserable I’ve been throughout my life – I’ve been able to keep up the facade so far.
What about you? Toss or keep?
are so fucked.
It’s one thing to have crazy weird thoughts, it’s another to knowing how crazy, weird and irrational my thoughts are. Metacognition in action.
The irrational side wants to end it all. The rational side is saying “Whoa, the reasons for ending it are silly. Settle down.”
The shitty thing is, I’m having difficulties controlling either of those voices. The irrational voice (with its cousin, the anxiety night monster) gets too loud sometimes and I worry it will take over. I have to remember that my family and friends don’t deserve pain like that.
Short of a lobotomy, I know I should probably see a professional. I rarely find relief because I don’t feel the therapists really hear me. Granted, I probably don’t explain myself that well either.
I wish I could just evaporate… Have I said that before?
I’m still here, in case anyone is wondering.
Just getting through the day(s).
If I could hang on for another 6 weeks, I might be able to make some more positive changes. Like exercising, for example.
The anxiety monster visited last week. I could feel its presence coming into the room, before it quickly took over my body and mind. As I was getting ready for bed, I felt it slowly creep up my legs, tighten around my arms and finally suppress rational thinking. It held me hostage until the morning. Fortunately, after my shower, I felt it release its grip and retreat a bit. I made it to work.
God, I’m so tired.
It’s difficult to make plans, to feel positive, in this state. It’s difficult to see a future. Very depressing.
I can’t move forward when I’m in this state which I find incredibly frustrating.