I lie in my bed, replaying and replaying my life in my mind. The hurt, the pain, the bullies, the lies, the boys. I can’t help it of late, I don’t even have the strength to fight it at all today. I usually throw in a couple good memories in the endless slideshow, but I am so weak and in no control of my body.
Not being able to stand it, I get out of that bed, and drink water to settle my nerves. I go out in the living room. I grab a blanket and watch the street sleep.
I turn on the T.V. and flip through all the channels, to find I end up on Lassie. Little Timmy is petting that smart dog, who always saved him. The nostalgia of the whole moment is too much.
I am a little girl again. Watching Lassie wrapped in a blanket. Up at night because the nightmares won’t leave me alone. She was so scared of the future, and so am I.
I am so scared of everything. I can’t pretend. I can only flash so many smiles, hold back so many tears, speak so many words.
I thought I could hold myself together. But–people saw me break yesterday, around 50 people. It was a series of events, and the last sent me spiraling. It wasn’t necessarily what was said or done in that moment. I just curled into a ball and my reality killed me internally. I think I said something, and I hope no one heard it; though I say it more and more these days. All I could do was shake as I blamed myself. I always do that.
I learned long ago you can’t blame anyone but yourself for the way you feel. I’m hurt because I let myself get vulnerable. I have anxiety because I believed lies. No one else did that, but me.
It’s like climbing out of a hole, that just grows deeper and wider every day. But, you have to keep climbing, you can’t stop, or you’ll just fall deeper. I’m climbing, watch me break myself from keeping on so.
By the grace of God, I am here. By the grace of God, I will make it. That’s what I say to myself every second, as I climb.