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[kltrainbows]

I’ve contemplated unaliving myself a lot in the past weeks. I just don’t know what I am really meant for in this life. I do find joy in some things and I do love being with the ones I love. But there is this overwhelming loneliness and feeling of uselessness. Intruding thoughts take over most of my mind and the trauma of my past is always seeping into my days. CPTSD rears its ugly head it seems every chance it gets. Anxiety, panic and depression being its wonderful sidekicks. I don’t understand what I’m meant for. I’m told that I do so much for others and that I’m a good person… and that’s great to hear… but what impact am I really having on the world? Would peoples lives change if I were gone? Yeah they would… but in the grand scheme of things would it really matter? I feel like I haven’t done much with my 31 years. I wish I had more to show for it. Right now I can’t even work because of my ailments… I feel useless that I can’t provide for myself the way I want to. Finding a job that is safe for myself and my service dog is proving to be basically impossible. Having a job where I have to be on the computer isn’t feasible because I get ocular headaches which lead to horrible migraines and even writing this I am needing to take breaks so that my eyes don’t strain too much. And getting a job where I’m on my feet isn’t feasible with POTS. My RA and fibro keeps my hands (whole body) from moving well and I’m always in pain. And going for disability is something I could do… but that isn’t something I can truthfully live off of and realistically survive. I just don’t know what to do. Life isn’t suppose to be this hard. I hate my body and the fact that it can’t do the things I want it to. I want to experience things and not be stuck in a body that won’t work. My doctors are trying to help with different meds and treatments, but fighting and jumping through hoops with insurance to get the proper treatment can be super trying. I want to live. But it feels impossible. I don’t want to unalive myself. But I also feel like what’s the point? I want to be free from this prison cell. LET ME OUT, I WANT TO BE FREE!!!

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I only wish I could go through life and not see your face in my mind. To not remember that night… to not imagine your grip on me… what you did to me… what you took from me…

I JUST WANT TO LIVE MY LIFE!!!

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I’m so fucking angry. So fucking livid right now. So much so that I could cry for days.

It’s pretty fucking sad that you’ll make posts and cry about one of your grandfathers… but not your other one…. not ours…

You’ll post for his birthday, but not for your other grandfather who also loved you dearly and who had a birthday the day right before his, October 20th. But you can post for him on the 21st…. You’ll post for him but not ours, when they both died on the same day, March 27th, just a year apart. Oh not to mention that was also our grandmothers birthday…. But you don’t give a fuck do you? Must be nice to not care. Fucking Asshole!

I need to vent this because FUCK I can’t stand the fact that you will do all this loving bullshit for your other grandfather/ grandparents, but not for the ones we shared. Our grandfather, our Papa would have given any of us grandchildren the shirt off his back if we needed it……. Our grandmother, our Grannie would have done anything to keep us from a life of pain…… But who the fuck cares right?!? You sure as fuck don’t! So FUCK YOU!!! Have the life you deserve!

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

😭🤬🤬🤬😭🤬🤬🤬😭

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Things just keep reeling through my head. I should be sleeping, but I’m not. The thoughts of doubt. The anxieties of yesterday and tomorrow. Was I a good enough daughter? Sister? Friend? Furmom? Neighbor? Was I?

The answer is, I don’t know, and I question myself all the time. Yeah sure people can tell me all they want that. That I’ve done nothing wrong and that I have done good things. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

I’m scared. I’m scared of everything and sometimes it gets exhausting. You know what actually… It’s always exhausting. It’s exhausting to be me. To be stuck in my head. To have to process everything that I have to on the daily. To be overwhelmed by all the thoughts that intrude.  I overthink all the time. Most of the time I think I’ve done something wrong or that I’ve done something to make someone mad. And 90% of the time I haven’t. But it’s that other 10%. That other 10% scares the crap out of me. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I do the wrong thing or get the wrong thing? What if I look the wrong way? What if my tone is off? What if I do everything perfect in my head, but it’s not what they expected? What if? What if? What if?

The “what ifs” in my head are constant. I’m terrified. Terrified to make a move, terrified to take a step. What if I breathe wrong? I don’t think or feel like I ever do anything 100% right. There’s always that doubt. And nothing seems to make it go away.

I try my best to put up a good front. To make it look like I’m OK. I’m doing fine. Nothings the matter here. But it couldn’t be further from the truth.

I have this overwhelming need to be held. To be loved like I wish I would’ve been as a child. And it’s not to say that I wasn’t loved and that I didn’t feel that love at times. But there’s a difference. There’s a difference between just feeling the love and feeling it and also feeling safe at the same time.

And it makes me feel childish. It makes me feel like I am a toddler who just wants their mom or grandma. Who just wants to be wrapped up in their arms and held for a while. To be rocked to sleep or just have my back rubbed and my hair played with. Why is this something I craving and want so much?

And when I feel this way… I cry and go into a fetal position, and I hold my furbabies. But it’s not the same. I can hold them. But they can’t hold me. No one, no one is here to hold me. It’s just me and  I’m lonely. So I cry into their fur. And wish for sleep, so that the hurt can go away. But it never truly goes away. It’s always there. A craving. A craving unfulfilled every day.

And I feel like I can’t ask anybody to help me with this feeling. The people who I would want to hold me. Probably won’t. And I won’t ask out of fear that they’ll say no. Or look at me like I’m a child. Or judge me. Or pity me. So I just sit here and day in and day out feeling this pit of despair heaving in my chest. 

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At the end of the day, other than my furbabies, I am alone and that’s how I fear I’ll stay forever.

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