The Feeling

When does it end?

Let me start by saying that I am greatly appreciative of the support I’ve received. I love that people are reading this and finding inspiration. Let me also say that I’m not writing for your attention. I’m writing for me. I’m writing to put my thoughts into words. I’m writing to understand, and learn, and grow.

Every day I wake up dreading what I might think about. Maybe you can relate. In case you can’t, let me explain.

I fear going to work and making a mistake. I fear losing my patience, which has been happening more and more frequently lately (though I usually keep my cool until dealing with traffic). I fear not knowing what to do next, because I’ve always been “so smart” and I don’t want to let anyone down.

I’m fearful in relationships. What if I’m not good enough? What if I push her away? What if I ask too many questions? What if I’m too needy, too clingy, too affectionate?

I’m afraid of social situations, but I drag myself out anyway. I’m afraid of being alone – ironic isn’t it? Picture any situation, and I’m sure something about it will throw me off.

So I wake up every day and wonder: What will be the one thing that pushes me over the edge today? Before I’ve even rolled out of bed I’ve already started digging the hole, and something at some point is bound to shove me into it.

Still I go about my day, and people say “I’m so proud of you.” “Keep it up.” “You’re so strong.” I know you all mean well, and I truly do love the support. It is encouraging, and what I’m about to say is not an attack of any sort.

I’m sick of being “strong.” I’ve been strong. I’ve been brave. I’ve fought against all kinds of bad people and shitty situations. I know it’s “incredible” that I stand where I do despite what I’ve been through. Now, I’m ready to just be healthy. I want to wake up one day and only think about how lucky I am to have what I have. I want to go to work and feel confident. I want to show my love, unrestrained, and know that it’s not “too much.” I want to walk into a bar without standing awkwardly in a corner the whole night.

I love being “strong” but I’m ready to feel comfortable. To be vulnerable and open. That’s what I want. That’s why I’m taking steps. That’s why I write. And, that’s why I need help.


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