It’s probably not a good sign that all I’ve really felt like doing lately is sleeping or being drunk.
I’m 87% sure I am depressed but 98% sure I will be fine. Eventually. Sometimes when I come here to this blank page, I sit staring at the blinking cursor thinking, “Do I say what’s really going on or do I post another amusing anecdote about my tenants.” I’ve been avoiding the truth. Not just here but everywhere in my life.
There are things happening. . . things that are not mine so I won’t discuss them here but they effect me. . . things that have made me so incredibly sad, so utterly floored, so entirely confused that I’ve been at a loss for words. And so, I stopped talking. Because every time I started to open up about what’s weighing on me, I’d start crying.
It happened over lunch with my Mom during her visit. It happened over the weekend with the Fella. I finally saw how sad I was making him by not letting him in. This would not be the first time I have built a barricade around my heart and pushed someone away. I have long suffered from what I call “premature evacuation.” I get out before the worst hits. I put up a front saying, “whatever” or “it doesn’t matter” when really it matters so much. It probably feels like the most important thing to me but I’ll deny it. Because I’ve always thought walking away first had dignity. Now I know that that was just my pride talking. And all my old wounds I was still licking.
I have a history of leaving the good guys before they can leave me because, who am I kidding, I don’t feel worthy of them. I have convinced myself that this is fact. I’ve clutched this truth like a lifeline and you know what? It’s not saving me. I’m heading right for a self-fulfilling prophecy. A big ol’ “I told you so.”
I’ve just felt so shaken to my core. I’m questioning so much of what I formerly believed as truth that I don’t know what to do next. I know this though: I’m tired of believing I am not enough to be loved. I might not have any control over anything else but that, that I can grab a hold of. That I can mold. That is changeable.