Fear
I'm a smart girl, I know my habits. My bad ones, especially.
I think my worst one is that I am unable to just let myself be happy and content. I have a self-destructive streak that has more control over me than I have over myself. Because I let it, yes. I know. I don't know how to stop it.
Yesterday I was comfortable and happy and relaxed and responsible. My mom paid me a compliment. My counselor paid me a compliment, last Thursday. We went out to dinner with my cousin and I had a good time.
Today, I feel jittery, uncomfortable. I don't feel like I deserve to be complimented or to have a good time. And it is usually at this point that I will go out of my way to demonstrate that I'm not worth your time.
Maybe I'll show up at your house hungover. Maybe I'll make you feel second to a man. Maybe I'll drunk dial you, crying. Maybe I'll kiss somebody else. Maybe I'll tell you I think your husband is attractive (you know, in "that" way). Maybe I'll tell you that I wish you would die. Maybe I'll tell you that I hate you. Whatever it is I can do to make you dislike me as much as I dislike myself. And I'll go to great lengths, because I know how to get the job done.
When I meet new people, I'll go out of my way to SHOW them that THEY DON'T want to be friends with me. I lay out all my faults and flaws for them to see - like an "after" picture of a damaged body part. I tell them about the abortion. I tell them about the failed marriage. I tell them about the kissing. My latest label? That I am the Worst Wife Ever. If I were a dog, I'd be baring my teeth. Don't get involved with me, I'll only hurt you, irreparably. And it will be your fault, because I TOLD YOU SO.
I SEE that I do this.
I KNOW that I do this.
And, I am not guilt free after I accomplish the hurt. No, I torture myself. I can't eat. I can't talk. I am too ashamed to go to the gym, to blog, to interact. I feel like everyone can see my HORRIBLE ACT written on my face, and that they will judge my lapse in judgment. So I try to redeem myself. Or maybe I'll just pretend that I didn't know you at all.
I can feel that itch now. Like everything is going too well (like I am almost a "normal" human being), and I feel scared. It's an unsettling (but common) sentiment to feel like your life is out of control because you get drunk and you don't know what you are going to do next. It's horrifying when you're sober.
Make it stop. I want to get off.
Jane Says: I'm the B-R-A-T. She be Missy. We some dumb bitches who be fucking it up.
I think my worst one is that I am unable to just let myself be happy and content. I have a self-destructive streak that has more control over me than I have over myself. Because I let it, yes. I know. I don't know how to stop it.
Yesterday I was comfortable and happy and relaxed and responsible. My mom paid me a compliment. My counselor paid me a compliment, last Thursday. We went out to dinner with my cousin and I had a good time.
Today, I feel jittery, uncomfortable. I don't feel like I deserve to be complimented or to have a good time. And it is usually at this point that I will go out of my way to demonstrate that I'm not worth your time.
Maybe I'll show up at your house hungover. Maybe I'll make you feel second to a man. Maybe I'll drunk dial you, crying. Maybe I'll kiss somebody else. Maybe I'll tell you I think your husband is attractive (you know, in "that" way). Maybe I'll tell you that I wish you would die. Maybe I'll tell you that I hate you. Whatever it is I can do to make you dislike me as much as I dislike myself. And I'll go to great lengths, because I know how to get the job done.
When I meet new people, I'll go out of my way to SHOW them that THEY DON'T want to be friends with me. I lay out all my faults and flaws for them to see - like an "after" picture of a damaged body part. I tell them about the abortion. I tell them about the failed marriage. I tell them about the kissing. My latest label? That I am the Worst Wife Ever. If I were a dog, I'd be baring my teeth. Don't get involved with me, I'll only hurt you, irreparably. And it will be your fault, because I TOLD YOU SO.
I SEE that I do this.
I KNOW that I do this.
And, I am not guilt free after I accomplish the hurt. No, I torture myself. I can't eat. I can't talk. I am too ashamed to go to the gym, to blog, to interact. I feel like everyone can see my HORRIBLE ACT written on my face, and that they will judge my lapse in judgment. So I try to redeem myself. Or maybe I'll just pretend that I didn't know you at all.
I can feel that itch now. Like everything is going too well (like I am almost a "normal" human being), and I feel scared. It's an unsettling (but common) sentiment to feel like your life is out of control because you get drunk and you don't know what you are going to do next. It's horrifying when you're sober.
Make it stop. I want to get off.
Jane Says: I'm the B-R-A-T. She be Missy. We some dumb bitches who be fucking it up.
This entry was posted
on Monday, July 24, 2006 at 8:21 AM.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
» Post a Comment