Empty in a good way. All my anxieties come from disappointing, upsetting or letting down others. I always say or do something I shouldn’t because it seems that I must be a bad person. Maybe the devil resides in me. This must be my fight.
When anxiety strikes, the only thing that makes me truly feel better is quality time with close loves ones, helping others, and church (one with a decent pastor anyway).
So logically, I would advise someone to do more of those things. But I tend to isolate until it reaches rock bottom.
I suppose I’ve been improving, regularly attending church, I’m scheduled to help with a group this upcoming weekend and I visited friends this past week. I’ve been trying to eat less and exercise as well.
When I see how fat and repulsive I’ve become it truly kills me. All that hard work in the toilet. I’d like to feel that good again but it feels light years away. But I need to try because hating myself everyday really hurts.
I’m one immature, pathetic almost-30-year-old. I need therapy, death or the lottery.