Tomorrow’s the big day. I’m moving back to the scene of the crime and all I could do today was either hold back tears or cry my eyes out. I feel like this isn’t even happening.My anxiety was so intense at work I could barely function and despite doubling up on anti-anxiety meds, I had severe suicidal ideations and could feel those bony hands on my throat.
I love this town. Even when my mind is shredded, I get a huge dose of comfort just being here. I love the people I’ve met and groups I’ve come across. I feel like I’m going through a break-up.
When I think back on the re-parenting I’ve learned about at therapy and throug ACA, I realize that I can be compassionate towards myself in regards to the decisions I’ve made and my current dis-interest in my career choice. What kills me is this dead feeling inside me. I have no passion for anything, no interests, no drive. It’s like I’m already dead and the flame in my chest has gone out. This is what drives me to the arms of la pelona. I’m traumatized to even believe in a career change. I think that I am too mentally fucked up to sustain interest I may even get. At times I get a little nudge of an idea, then as quick as it came, it’s gone and in it’s place is dark, deep, hollow space of death.
I’m overwhelmed with the move and just want this year to be here and gone. I have no idea what or where I’m going after that.