No. More. Fear.

Yet again it’s been a while since we last spoke. I’ve had a mental breakdown in the past two days, where it has now left me feeling drained and weak. It all started with perceived weakness. I thought that I could fight with the limited skills I had. 
Newsflash: I couldn’t. I got my ass kicked. 
And then it went on a further steam rolling spree through every part that has been sitting on the back burner for a while now. 
My dysphoria hit really hard on Sunday, where I broke down and cried a lot and in front of someone else. I call this person my friend, hell, we live together, but I really don’t like my own showing of emotions in front of myself, let alone anyone else. 
I can’t seem to write anything pretty or anything that I deem good enough or artful enough to show anyone. Hell, you can see it now as I type this out. There is no flourish here: no cohesive notion to my thoughts. These are just me in the aftermath of this ringer that I’ve been through the past two days. 
I got set on fire, and I asked for it. 
Yeah, I did. But I didn’t think my anxiety would team up with the dysphoria and my own reservations, fears, and explicit torrential raging violence to practically destroy me. I seriously considered just taking myself out of this world. I seriously considered it because I thought the anxiety would continue to make this my life… and I couldn’t handle it. 
I went manic last night. I drank a whole bottle of wine in less than 1.5 hrs just to quell the amount of energy in my chest. Of course, I knew not to do it. I even went to my yoga class, got my ass kicked again, and it still didn’t help. If anything, I went to a new class just to try it out, but I couldn’t keep up. 

Bottom line: I can’t handle being weak. I’ve been weak all my life and I’m damn tired of it. I am so tired of it. I’m tired of being afraid of everything, wondering who’s going to kill me, who’s trying to take advantage of me, who’s going to hurt me, I’m fucking tired of it. That’s why I’m in martial arts. That’s why I strength train. That’s why I go to yoga class. This is why I am so damn active all the time in hopes of honing the body I’ve been given to work it to the fullest so I am no. longer. afraid. 
I’ve lived my whole life in fear. And the past two days I’ve been staring at my own fears, my own weaknesses right in the face and I still don’t know what to do about it. I see them there. My own insecurities surrounding my new relationship. My own inherent anxiety surrounding my past, thinking that it’s come back to haunt me. And it has. I. am. haunted. by my own memories. I can remember plenty of the bad that’s happened, but I draw a blank about some of the good. I still have good memories, but as far as having a best one, I draw a complete blank. Some have said that my graduation from college should have been a milestone. I don’t consider it one. Everyone had one. But then not everyone went to the same school I did… prestigious they call it. I graduated with no honors, no cum laudes or other such things. I graduated. I went to school as instructed to get a job that I would likely hate for the rest of my life. This was not the life I had chosen. I wanted one of adventure and difference. Not this. Not this. But here I was. Nothing remarkable. Nothing to contribute. 

And therein lies my weakness. I think I am weak, therefore I am useless. 
I am not useless. I am there for my friends. I can bring a smile to someone’s face. I am there for my friends. I’ve always been there, and always will be. Doesn’t mean I won’t slip up every once in a while, but I love them, despite their own faults. Some of them quite grave and make me question my own judgment, but I know who my friends are. I can expect them to be honest, brutally so, and I believe that I have chosen quite well for myself. Even if I don’t know you very well, I will still help in any capacity I can. I have lived in fear. I have been beaten down so many times, I lost count. But here I still stand. Battered and broken and beaten, but I’m still here. I have taken your suicidal thoughts and smashed them. I have taken this anxiety surrounding my trust issues, and I’m still struggling with it. But I’m dealing with it as best I can. I have patience for those I love. I am not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I am not that dumb. I make dumb decisions, but that’s due to my own misinformation. My own skewed logic. Facts. I have to stick to the facts. Everything else is just my own conjecture. All these thoughts of what if are POINTLESS. All of these thoughts of what if my SO’s cheating on me, whether I can trust him not to hurt me, whether this or that about this own behavior are USELESS. That right there is useless. It’s providing me no purpose, and goddamnit, I do not deserve this constant beatdown of my own judgment! I don’t deserve this. I’ve done some terrible things in my life, but that was then: this is now. I am recovered from my own past sins and I forgive myself, not some higher power but myself can forgive me for the mistakes I’ve made no matter how small or large. I never listened to myself, and what I’ve needed and I am only sorry to myself for failing to listen. But I am forgiven. This punishment shall not take me as its hostage anymore. This is not serving me. This is not serving anyone. I am not helping anyone with this weight on me that I feel I must bear. I don’t have to bear it anymore. 
Lack of confidence in others isn’t romantic. Lack of confidence in self is not romantic either. It’s a fatalistic approach to life that is not fantastic. Trust issues serve no one. Fear rules. I will not let fear rule anymore. I have made this promise then, and I still have it now. I will not let this happen. 
I just have to rebuild. I am so concerned with it being perfect though that I can’t start. I want to make sure it’s perfect, and that mistakes will be at a minimum, but I know this is impossible. There are going to be marks, scars, mistakes etched in the stones I am using. But most importantly, I have to have the trust and commitment to myself to ensure that these issues don’t ruin me. Confidence in myself is where this starts. I am a pretty good person… and I can be wise and kind, and fiercely independent.
Trust. Trust in myself. I’ll work on it.
Facts. Trust the facts you know with 100% certainty. No room for conjecture. Conjecture is for story writing ONLY.
Logic. Not your skewed logic. Look at the facts and evidence.
Work on this. That’s all you need to do.
The End.  

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