That is how I can describe my days lately.
Things at home? Things at home have been better. My husband is trying so hard. I have torn down my walls and let him in. I am letting him hold me. I am asking him to kiss me deeply. I am trying to feel the connection and love between us.
I am trying. I owe him that, after building a life with him for the last 12 years. I owe him one more chance.
Things inside my soul, though?
I cry even trying to find the words to describe how I am feeling.
Mostly, I am feeling ashamed of who I am. Ashamed of the way I’ve handled the stress and what I thought was the undoing of my marriage.
I made some poor choices. Selfishly. Knowingly.
I am a perfectionist to my core. Knowing that I chose to mess up? It eats me alive.
My whole life I’ve toed the line. I don’t do bad things. I don’t mess up on purpose. I don’t break laws or rules. I’ve never touched a drug and never partied as a teen or in my early twenties.
It has been stifling, at times. But it allows me to live with myself. It is something I can look at and say…”See, I am not my parents.”
So, knowing I have now caused myself and others emotional harm? That is what is so very, very hard.
I do not know how to forgive myself.
I DO know how to punish myself.
It does no good, my therapist tells me. But it is also the only thing that makes sense in my head.
I messed up=shame and self hate.
I am also a verbalizer. It is part of my process to talk things out. Luckily, I feel like I have a good support circle. Trustworthy friends, and my therapist.
But, lordy….talking about my mistakes and admitting them makes me feel so vulnerable and SO insecure.
Do my friends think less of me? Will I lose them?
I wish I could keep secrets. Alone. Buried deep inside.
Self hate and punishment make me want to self isolate. Stop reaching out. Stop talking. Just crawl deep inside myself and never get out of bed.
I’ve been fighting that. I’ve been reaching out and asking for coffee dates and time with my friends. Even though I am on empty.
I lost it on Friday. I was worried about losing support people. Hating myself for the ways I’ve messed up. Hating myself for making a complicated situation even more complicated and confusing. Hating myself for potentially hurting people that I love.
I drove home from work, shaking. Hoping I could connect with a friend or my therapist or someone…just to talk it out. Just to not feel alone. To not feel hated and judged and to not let reality slap me across the face, again.
It didn’t happen. I couldn’t control the tears. I had to pull my car over and just bawl. Just really cry for myself, by myself…angry, sad, confused, and absolutely aching.
And then I had to suck it all back up and drive home.
At home, I’m having trouble being a mom. My need to isolate has me feeling overwhelmed by noise and when the kids crawl on me I feel over-touched. I snuggle, but I am easily irritated. I am short and snappy.
…it is another thing I hate myself deeply for.
I am struggling.
I don’t know how to forgive myself. How to accept the things that have happened and just move on.
I do not know how to process it. I feel like I don’t even deserve the people I have…and I also wish, at times, I could just lie and pretend that my life is perfect.
But it isn’t how I work. And so, instead, I worry that I don’t deserve them…and that I will lose them slowly, piece by piece…the more flawed that they see I am. So then, I want to do them favor and just hide.
I am struggling.
I am ashamed.
I am so, so tired.