- Dec 2, 2019
I’m losing my mind. Or rather, I’ve already lost it. I don’t think there is a cure to this kind of madness. To be self aware and mentally ill at the same time is frustrating? What a sick joke. Just like the toxic relationship in my brain between anxiety & depression. I have a tendency to run from places in search of contentment. But please someone tell me: Where do you run to when you’re trying to run from yourself? I try to fight it. Ignore it. Ride it out. Without Xanax this time, right? Wrong. Among the many triggers of the day, the one that set me off was simple. I’m 35$ short on mortgage. Petty right? So petty that the minute my ex boyfriend (who I live with & broke up with me months ago & is currently sleeping but has his arm draped around me and frequently tells me he loves me) left for a few minutes, I briefly choked on my tears, hyperventilated, threw up, and stumbled over to my purse and with shaky hands, found the appropriate pill bottle and swallowed a Xanax with a side of pride. All in a span of 8 minutes. As I mentioned before, I’m self aware. I shut off every single light in the house, put on an oversized T-shirt & fuzzy socks, lit a candle, laid on the couch with my baby blanket only to observe my fish tank for an hour. That was hours ago. It’s now 1 AM and I’m contemplating running again. Packing my things while he’s gone so he comes home from work to a vacant home. Void of anything to remember me by. I want to. But moving takes time. Something I can’t seem to manage these days. Matter of fact, I don’t think I can manage much of anything.