This week that passed was full of anxiety. My joy gone. It is a heartbreaking feeling. My mindfulness slipping through my hands.
I am full of guilt mostly, then shame. Shame for the past, shame for me trying to fix it. Shame for my over sharing, shame for my silence.
Guilt is bubbling through me, pushing my insides to my throat. My airways sufficiently blocked I cannot cry, I cannot scream. It jumps too frequently in me, I want to get help and then I talk myself out of it. I don’t need it, I’ve come this far on my own.
But I don’t want to die, I don’t want this to be the end. I want to, I don’t know. Start over?
What isn’t enough is the confessions, and the paranoia. The constant fear I will be ridiculed, that everything is a conspiracy to condemn me. Each invite a chance to publicly hang me for my sins.
That is my ultimate fear. And how to change it? Easy. Easy to do, leave my family, live somewhere else. Start a fresh, mindful. Fighting the temptations to be me. Find a partner to confide in, that is the real challenge, impossible! How to trust? How to let my guard down? How to be vulnerable? I think I can. Just not quite yet. Not quite.