Hey, blog.
So, it's been a while. Previously, this medium has been used to write up funny little posts for the reader to enjoy, but I think now it's going to be used for something much more personal. I can't guarantee that I'll post more than even this one blog, but for now, it's something that I need to post for my own reasons.
From my teen years into the present, I've been suffering with some (at times) severe anxiety. Everyone has anxiety-- I know this. I do feel, however, that my anxiety is something that has really stopped me from becoming who I know I'm meant to be. Throughout this expanse of time, I've tried several methods to help cope with and manage this anxiety-- some healthy options, and some much less healthy-- but ultimately nothing has left me with the ability to say that I have "overcome" it. Family, friends, and lovers have all endured and been affected by my inability to cope with this affliction, and I'm sad to say that this has been the main cause of many of my failed relationships-- whether we knew it at the time or not.
So, why am I writing about this, you may ask? It's not to inform anyone of anxiety, not to bring awareness; I'm writing this down for ME. To help get the monster out of my head and into reality for a moment, in hopes that it will help me understand and better manage this-- if I may call it so-- "disease". If this doesn't help, at least I can cross it off the list of things I've tried.
Well, now that we've covered this disclaimer, let's start the show, folks. Prepare for some serious "stream of consciousness" shit.
I broke up with my boyfriend today. It wasn't fun, it wasn't easy, and it wasn't fair.. but it was necessary. He is an amazing person and an amazing boyfriend-- did EVERYTHING right-- and somehow I'm still left with this horrible, gaping ache inside of me, waiting to be nourished by a man who will never be able to feed it. And the worst part is, it's not even his fault.
I don't know where or when it happened, but somewhere along the way I developed this overwhelming self-hatred that has slowly consumed my life and dictated all of my actions. I sometimes sit and wonder at the root cause of this self loathing, but have come to the conclusion that it's less important to place the blame, and more important to remedy the present. I mention this because I think maybe this is why my (now ex) boyfriend could not "complete" me, so to speak. I don't think I ever mean to, but subconsciously I'm always searching for someone else to validate my person; searching for someone to make me feel whole. The catch is, at the end of the day, once that person leaves.. I'm left with myself. It's in those quiet moments of self-reflection that things start to get ugly.
So today, in my quiet moments, I can't stop thinking about this break up. I can't stop second guessing my decision, even though I know (logically) it was the right decision. My feelings have faded, the passion is gone; it's a hard fact to face, but it's a fact, none the less. I keep hearing his voice in my head, and how upset he sounded.. and I just can't let it go. I mean, I think if I felt zero pain, I would be a sociopath or something.. but I have a feeling it's going to take a lot to erase that moment from my brain. It's hard for me to hurt people-- well, it's probably hard for most people to hurt people-- but that pain really stays with me. It's like one more "tally" in my head on the side of "reasons Alyssa sucks". Like I'm just waiting for something to expose the fact that I've made the wrong decision, so I can regret it, and rub my poor choice in my own face. I wonder why I do that?
As I'm feeling bad about this, there's also this nasty voice in the back of my head telling me that I'm being selfish for feeling bad about this. This constant voice, always feeding my consciousness these nasty little remarks about myself, fueling my negative image. I can't stop thinking, "you don't have any right to feel bad, YOU caused this. stop making it about yourself". It's like, fuck. If people outside of my own head aren't going to make me feel horrible for "pitying" myself, then I'll do it for them. Lets eat another microwaveable pizza to quiet the internal beast.
The topic of using food to calm my anxiety is probably an entire blog post in and of itself, so I wont go into any great depth on it. Really, though, food and a few other things are the only real things that turn my brain off for a while-- maybe it's because it's something I can control. Maybe my parents used food to console me as a child, or something, and that became the only real way I learned how to make myself stop hurting. As I can't consciously remember a situation in which that might be true, I guess we'll assume it's not. All I know is that one personal microwaved pizza can buy me an hour of "quiet brain" time-- I assume this is some weird anxiety-related currency that only fucked up people know about. After that hour, though, it's back to crazy town.
New plan: eat a personal microwaved pizza every hour for the rest of your life, and die at 40, fat and smiling.
We'll end on that ingenious plan for short-term happiness.
Until my next anxiety attack,
Alyssa
