Here I am once again, unable to pull myself away and start on errands that need to be run. It's a strange combination of procrastinating and social anxiety; I feel like curling up in the dark to hide. To get away from this apartment, away from the tragedy I'm struggling to face, the freedom I feel that has been taken from me.
This ain't no pity party, kids. I'm suffering a terrible internal conflict that's making it difficult to remain in a good frame of mind.
I haven't eaten since yesterday, and what I ate yesterday was more of the snacking variety. I've already lost a few pounds (gotta love shedding water weight). I'm not starving myself, no matter how hungry I feel, I just...don't want to eat. This place, this fucking Cage I'm in...is becoming increasingly hard to function in. This isn't home anymore... It's a tomb.
I'm trying to keep positive (as everyone may have noticed) trying to keep myself from that edge of madness. I write about the things that keep me motivated, that keep me thinking of a better day. Something Good to look forward to. But just beneath the surface, I'm literally falling apart at an accelerated rate. I can't pin point what the hell is wrong with me, fighting to keep my rational side in play while trying with everything I can to stop my emotions from spilling over.
Is it possible that I'm simply in need of more help then I initially realized? Am I spiraling downward unknowingly by thinking I can get everything accomplished by myself? I know I'm not alone, but with my Father's health... No one really sees what I see, being here in this emotional death-trap we're both stuck in. I should be able to function relatively fine even if he's a little under the weather physically. But I seemed to have forgotten a very important aspect of my genetic makeup.
There's no way around it, I'm an Empath and when it comes to my Father, I'm incredibly connected to him. So not only am I suffering my own fears and anxieties, I'm picking up on his as well. Which may explain why I feel like I'm drowning every time I'm in the same room with him. It wasn't like this before. I genuinely enjoy my Father's company. But I noticed something this morning after my Father woke up just when I was finishing my 2nd blog post; that refreshed feeling I had was swept away in his presence and I've noticed a severe drop in mood and energy over the past few hours. I feel like a horrific weight has settled in my stomach and I feel this terrible sense of helplessness. And all I want to do, is get as far away as physically possible.
Geezuss I'm an idiot. Wow, it just hit me. I can't shut off the connection between us and I can't differentiate between my Father's emotional chaos and energy levels, and my own. I am literally being suffocated. Which explains why I feel like I can breathe when I walk out the door and start to suffer sever panic knowing I Have to come home.
I really am trying, people close to me know this but they also understand that this environment would drive anyone to the breaking point. And I feel like no matter how much I try, no matter how much I'm on top of things, there's always one small facet I managed to miss and things began to spiral downward again. It's even harder due to the fact that Dad really can't do much anymore. I'm fairly simplistic in my routine and can get by on very little, and I know what Dad needs and it's not a problem for me. I think I'm more overwhelmed than I initially realized.
I hate to confess this, but last night...when I was suffering that 'rough' patch I mentioned this morning in my initial blog... I honestly felt myself starting to snap. It was over something so simple too, which really baffles me as to why I would react the way that I had. Was it a trigger? Possibly...
My Dad mentioned that he needed me to look over his bills, which I had told him I would so in the morning after I'd had my first cup of coffee. But he has a way of needling me and in a semi-guilt trip, wanted me to do it right when he thought about it. I felt my chest start to tighten and a strange kind of pain dance down my spine and into my lower back. Tears began to sting my eyes and I felt the surge of an anxiety attack about to explode, making normal function damn near impossible. I was shaking. I tried to calm down, tried to sit for a moment and force myself to calm the fuck down but then he barked that he wanted the bag and that he'd do it himself. The anxiety peeked and I started to lose it (yes, Very embarrassing to admit that I actually started crying because I couldn't control the panic sweeping through me, making feel like a complete waste of a human being). I told my Dad I couldn't help my reaction, that I was actively fighting to get my bearings; desperate for normalcy.
I stopped and stood very still... My brain felt as though it was being devoured by thousands of panicked ants seeking any means of escape. I couldn't move, trapped in my body when this terrible calm swept through me and I felt cold in a way that didn't give me goosebumps. I could only move my eyes, my spine having gone completely rigid and when I glanced to the wall to my left I had this sudden image of me slamming my fists against it, screaming. The thought frightened me enough to keep myself from moving, finding that I had a helluva lot more control then I first realized. I tried to calm my breathing when another wave of panic traveled through me and I had a sudden urge to grab the scissors to my right and cut my hair off just below my ears. I could see myself doing it and could feel the temptation shudder through me, causing my hands to clench into white knuckled fists as tears of frustration squeezed from my eyes. I knew I had to calm down immediately, and forced myself to go to that quiet place deep within my mind. I felt my breathing ease and my skin tingled and suddenly I was viewing the world in tunnel vision. That internal void opened up and I gladly submerged myself, knowing it was the only way to stop the madness from taking hold of me.
Within that eerie calm, I felt everything drift away and was able to take a shaky breath, slowly coming back to myself. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was only for a few minutes.
I hated how that made me feel, helpless and screaming inside for an escape. For something, anything to stop the insanity from taking hold. From becoming just another sad case of someone too weak to face hardship. I may be pretty fucked up right now, but I will Never allow myself to snap. Ever. No matter how much I start shaking, how hard my chest aches and how loud the pounding in my ears becomes. I will Not allow myself to lose control. To do so would be so incredibly selfish. I need to push aside everything I'm feeling and force myself to get up and keep going.
I do feel shattered. I do feel weak and afraid and lost. I feel allot of things...but how does that help? Seriously, what good do these lecherous emotions do except for cripple me when I need to be strong for my Dad? Emotions are nothing more then an annoying weakness that need to be flushed from the system. I need to grow callous. I need to hollow myself out so I can get through this. I don't have a choice.
Can you tell how conflicted I am? It's fuckin' annoying is what it is. My emotions have done nothing but cripple me and I can't afford that. This god damned extra sensory ability I have needs to be shut completely off, leaving me empty so I can focus on what needs to be done.
I'm getting so tired of going from hopeful, to scared, to helpless, to lost then filled with rage. The ups and downs are exhausting and I need to put it to a stop. If I shut off, they shut off. Simple.
*lets out a soft sigh and takes a drink of her water*
It's obvious I need to get my shit together emotionally. This isn't a cry for help or 'woe is me, my life is soo hard, blah blah blah'. No, not my intent. A partial vent as well as a way to release this sickness welling up inside of me. I have to get my focus back, or I will lose my mind and everything will fall apart. I will not be a god damned weakling. No matter how fucked up I am on the inside, or how close I've come to falling off the edge of sanity... This is not about me. He needs my help. And right now, I'm the Only One able to do so, not due to pride or anything, but simply due to the fact that I'm physically here.
Things will get done, there is no other option.
I'm just showing you what's truly boiling beneath the surface. I am human (no matter how much I detest admitting that) and I unfortunately suffer emotional ups and downs as well.
I figured the best therapy is to be open and honest. To unleash this poison and try to sort out my thoughts at the same time. It does help, even in a small way, just to get myself to admit that I am fragmented and am trying to pull myself together even when, at times, I feel that it's pointless to do so.
But I haven't given up. No matter how frustrated or depressed or crazy this situation makes me Feel, I'll get through it. I just want to breathe again. I want to be able to leave the house and not have an anxiety rat gnawing on the back of my mind.
*takes another breathe and smirks, irritated with herself*
We all have our breaking points and I haven't gotten there just yet. It's a struggle sure, but it'll settle and I'll be fine. I'll make it, or maybe I just need to keep telling myself that so I will be okay. Mind over matter kinda thing. Self motivation can't hurt.
It's always the darkest before the dawn...
-Anon
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