27 April 2011

Wanting to Write, But Being Afraid To Write - PYHO

At least 10 separate times, I've started a thread or a post somewhere and then wiped it all away.  Some of them were almost completely finished as well.  But my greatest enemy has come back to rear it's ugly head.  The enemy called "Self Doubt".

I'm behind in a lot of things.  I'm behind in cleaning my house.  I'm behind (where I want to be, at least) with some swaps.  I'm behind with posts I want to do.  I'm behind in my exercise.  I'm behind in my book reviews (and I think I'm up to 12 or 14 that I need to review).  I'm behind on game posts.  I feel like I'm behind on everything.  And it's making me feel as though the ground under my feet has quickly become a sink hole and I have no hope of jumping clear of it.

I'm feeling needy and hating myself for feeling that way.   I want to be liked by everyone.  I want to be told "It's ok," when I'm getting behind.  I want to be sure that I'm not one of the questionable people that are talked about on some of the boards I'm on.  I want to be perfect and at the moment, I'm feeling like I can't even be adequate.

Yes, I know all the answers.  "You can let things go.", "You don't have to do everything.", "Cut yourself some slack.", "You know, you really DO have a lot going on in your life right now."  People with the best of intentions trying to help make things better for me.  But it doesn't always work that way.  Because a lot of the people that are telling me these things only know the things that I tell them.  The know about the health problems, and the stupid camera going into the washer.  They know about the frustrations that my kids are giving me.  But they aren't here to see what's really going on.  They aren't here to see me getting sucked into books instead of doing things that I need to because fantasy is so much better than reality.  They aren't here to see the state of my apartment, or the utter lack of desire to get out of bed.  The only one that is even close to knowing everything going on in my life is my husband - and a part of me discounts what he says as, "Well, of course he's going to say those things.  He love me.  He has no choice."

I'm depressed and I'm scared.  I'm scared that I'm going to have a full-blown nervous breakdown.  I'm afraid that my anger is going to get out of control and I'm going to hurt one of my kids.  I'm afraid that someone will come into my house and decide that I'm not a good enough parent to my kids and that they need to be taken away from me.  I'm afraid that I'm going to be banned and/or shunned from the places I go online.  I'm afraid of being proven to be the failure that some small part of me is convinced that I already am.

I have an appointment with my therapist on Friday.  I have an appointment with my psychologist (or is he a psychiatrist?  Can't remember) the following Wednesday.  I know I need to talk to them about all of this.  I know that SOMETHING has to be done about all of this because I can't handle the way I am right now.  Maybe I need more meds.  Maybe I need more focus, or to be pushed more, or to get away with some honest to God ME time.  Maybe I need to really start writing in a paper journal, rather than out here for the world to read, all the while being afraid that the people that read it will think I'm writing it for attention and not just because I've got to get it out.  That they'll wonder why I'm doing so in such a public forum.

I guess the answer to that is that I'm hoping someone will come up with an answer for me.  Someone will have that magic bullet that will make my life instantly better.  Someone will tell me "This is what you need to do" and I'll do it and the sun will start shining again.  I'm tired of this darkness.  I'm tired of these fear.  I'm tired of my tears being so close to the surface for so long, but feeling like I'm already cried out.  I'm tired of being angry with my kids for being kids.  I'm tired of being worried that everyone hates me.  I'm tired of the paranoia and the fear and the worry and the demands and the inability to just be ok with letting things go.  Because I'm not ok with it.  When I do let things go (perfect example: My apartment), I look around and I feel like a failure.  When I see my kids refusing to listen to anything I say, I feel like a failure.  Because I'm convinced that no parents has ever had as much trouble with their kids as I have with mine.I cut back on the swaps I'm in, not joining any new ones for the moment because I don't feel like I'm keeping up with the ones I have, and I still don't feel any less pressure.

I make commitments.  Not always to other people.  Often times to myself.  And I hate to have to let that person down.  Even if that person is me.  Because I feel my own disappointment far stronger than I feel the disappointment when someone else lets me down.  I can understand that life happens with others.  I can't understand that it happens with me.  Because if I can't keep promises to myself, how on earth can I keep promises to anyone else?  Seriously?

I'm broken.  At least, I feel that way.  I know that I need to continue getting up.  I know that the only failure is to stay down when you stumble rather than getting up to try again.  But sometimes it gets so hard.  It's exhausting to not be able to see the good that's around me.  To not find that one little spark that I can hold on to.  But I think I've lost my way.  And I don't know how to find it again.  And what scares me most of all is that a day will come when I just can't get up again.

I told Rich, half joking, that what I needed for Mother's Day was a week away and a made to come clean the house during the week I'm gone.  The reality of the situation is that I can't even have 24 hours away.  There are too many necessities in our lives that require my presence.  Rich has to work - he's the one bringing in the money.  And he's working his ass off with three jobs.  I need to be here with the kids while he's doing that.  And there isn't anyone who COULD take the kids for that period of time.  It's the biggest disadvantage of being away from almost all of my family.  And of the ones that are close by having willing spirits but weak flesh.  So I've got to continue to try to do what needs to be done.

And when I write something like this, write a post like this, all I can think is, "You fucking whine ass.  Get over yourself.  Everyone else on the planet does what they need to do.  No one else cries about how hard it is.  You're so fucking LUCKY.  You have a roof over your head.  You've got gas in your van.  You've got food on your table.  You have some aches and pains, but NOTHING compared to what a lot of people out there have.  And they buckle down and do what needs to be done without shouting it to the world.  So why are you fucking whining about it now?  Get over yourself and just do your fucking job." And that makes me feel worse because if I'm thinking this, everyone else must be thinking the same thing.

I hate myself for being the way that I am right now.  It should be the motivator to get me to change but maybe I just don't hate myself enough.  Because I try something for a day or two and then it's back to the same old Amber.  That must mean that there's a part of me that actually enjoys being this way.  Seriously.  Because if I didn't, I would just DO what needs to be done.

I'm an expert at beating myself up.  I always have been.  It's a flaw that I thought I'd gotten rid of after I recovered from my last super-bad relationship.  But right now, when I should be feeling damn lucky for what I have, it rears it's ugly head again.  I sabotage myself.  Everything I touch.  Because I WANT myself to fail.  It makes that little voice that whispers in my ear right.  It means that I really, really AM a failure.  And no one should want me around anyway.

I'm trying to get help.  I'm trying to figure out a plan.  But I don't know what that plan is going to be.  I don't know how to change myself to be who I want, and need, to be.  I don't know the baby steps that I need to take.  I don't know where to start.  I want someone to take my hand and show me the way, but I shouldn't need that. I'm a 37 year old woman who has lived on away from her parents (for the most part) since I was 20.  You'd think I'd have a plan by now.  But I don't.  And I don't know why.

So... yeah.  This is what's going through my mind tonight.  And what's been going through my mind for the last couple of weeks.  It's what's making it harder and harder for me to face the day with a smile on my face.  It's what's making me want to be alone again because I wouldn't be letting anyone else down if I were.

I hate feeling this way.  I hate being this way.  But my constant companion is the fear that I'll never be able to change any of it.