hi

I got depressed and fat. About to change that though.

2nd therapy session ever in t-minus 30 minutes. I'm terrified despite my first session going well.

I'm so scared of what she's going to resurface and make me face head on. I have so many repressed memories that I lock away.. and I know she's going to bring those up.

This is how I work up this morning. All 3 of our cats were sleeping with me all night lmao. 🥰

That's honestly what I'm afraid is gonna happen irl when I tell people.

My bf, Mom and Stepdad know. That's about it.

** I forgot I had this post in my drafts **

My abusive ex messaged me a screenshot of a Facebook memory of us from 5 years ago.

I've done everything to avoid this fucker for the past FOUR YEARS and he still can't take a hint. I blocked him.

Like a week later I go out for ice cream with my niece and parents after her chorus concert. I run into him. He gets all wigged out and leaves with his brother.

Fast fwd to this past weekend.. my boyfriend was putting his boat into the water so we could enjoy a day on the lake. Guess who he ended up parking his boat trailer by? My psychotic. abusive ex. 😳

I can't escape him lately. Like what are the odds? It's got me feeling uneasy as hell. I've done a good job of avoiding him for a very long time. He used to degrade me.. blackmail me.. throw me into walls. I never want to think of it again.

That's the shitty part. My Grandmother has the worst timing.

Last week I was down. So down that I wanted to end my shit more than anything.

I got better after Friday. Spent the day with my boyfriend on Saturday. Got a little worse by Saturday night, but I was back to being myself on Sunday and Monday. 🤷🏼‍♀️

I woke up this morning and I didn't want to die. I felt motivated to make my morning coffee and take the dog on a nice, long walk. I even cleaned up the apartment a bit. I hardly ever have enough energy or motivation to do the smallest of things, so I was feeling good about myself.

But then it hits me all over again. I glance at the booklet sitting under my coffee table and remember a couple of things...

1. My Dad is dead.

2. My Grandmother is fucked in the head.

3. None of it matters.

I keep telling myself #3. NONE OF IT MATTERS! Stop obsessing. Stop being so angry! Move on and live your life!

But honestly? I can't. My emotions are fucking heightened. It's a touchy subject and I deserve to be angry about it and I sure the fuck didn't deserve what she did. She took my Father's narrative and used it in a manipulative and hurtful way. She stole words from a man I've wanted to sit down and talk with for years. Who the fuck does that?!

I've written her a few letters. Didn't send them, obviously. I can't get the words right. None of it is good enough to express how angry and hurt I am.

The first letter was angry, spiteful and rude. The second letter was depressing and cold. The third one barely makes sense because I was so fucking stoned when I wrote it 😂

I'm spiraling.

Let me start off by saying ~ I am unstable as FUCK lately. [ & by lately I mean the past 4 years lulz ]

My niece spent the night last night. I don't see her as often as I'd like, so I wanted it to go perfectly. We sat on the couch, stayed up a bit late and talked. I loved every second of it.

Shit hit the fan halfway through & my bf yelled in my face.. swore at me with a crazy look in his eyes.. right in front of my niece.

I wanted to crack, but I didn't. I held my composure. But best believe I lost my shit once I was alone in my own bed.

I woke up breathing heavy.. hands clammy.. I was panicking. For what? I don't even know. It doesn't matter. All I know is that I felt like I was in danger.

I held my shit together once again.. got my niece up to get ready for school.. and left for work in a hurry.

I cried on my way there. I nearly turned back around a dozen times. I felt worthless.. hopeless.. and terrified.

I had to make phone calls to clients when I arrived to work. I couldn't pick up the phone. I put it off, escaped to the bathroom, panicked some more.

By the time I got back to my desk I was breathing short, shallow breaths. I decided to get my keys and leave, never look back. I can find another job, right? Right?

I don't know what changed in my head. I don't know how the fuck I managed to force myself to stay. In that moment, I felt like I was dying. On the outside, you would never know.

I made a few calls. After the fourth time, I gained more confidence, but the panicked feeling inside wouldn't go away.

Despite feeling like I was internally dying all day, I still went to work and did my job. I was attentive, I pushed the intrusive thoughts back and put the tasks at hand first.

It may sound stupid to you, but I'm fucking proud of myself for this week. For existing. For battling my own mind.