I told the temporary GP that hitting a ten threatens the truth that I have everything to live for.

I bounce around pain levels with my emotions trying to catch up. I am excited about tomorrow because I’m getting a new frog and I’m excited about going to services this evening yet my anxiety is sky high. I’m fighting back tears while bouncing around the house cooking mock Chinese food and drinking spiced tea I threw together just this morning. I feel on the verge of breaking which will leave a trail all over this house because that’s where I am, all over.

I feel sad, emotional, excited, anxious anticipation, despair. I don’t feel suicidal, just tired. I know I’m going to services tonight and I know it’ll take everything out of me for the rest of the night and into the morning but I need to be there. I hate leaving the house anymore because I have to take my head with me. What if people want hugs? What if my old friend is there? What if I cry right in the middle of someone’s talk?

I hate my body and I hate my mind. I hate these strong hormonal swings with roller coaster pain levels. I hate that my family is torn apart. I hate that I felt so much anger I wanted my grandmother dead. I don’t feel that strongly right now but sometimes I think, if she hadn’t kept up the tradition of abusing children, would my mother have abused me?


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