Move along...

Nothing to see here.

It's been a crazy journey. I still have choices, and well- they all suck. I resent having to make these choices. Mom says I am so lucky to have these options, and I really wish I could see it that way. I don't feel lucky. I feel cheated. I feel fucked over. I feel bludgeoned.

I don't want to be defined by the chances I didn't take, but things are looking pretty bleak to me right now. And I am heartily sick of sending negative crap out into the internet.

So- yeah. I don't know if I will keep updating this. I have good days, and I have bad days, and that's just the way it is. I am sick of people asking if I am OK. I'm not OK, but I can hold it together only as long as nobody shows me sympathy.

I don't want to be stuck with this. I don't want to feel trapped. But I just am. And maybe there's just some kind of spin I can put on it that makes me feel better about my situation, but I don't think this is something that can be lessened by talking to someone. Therapy isn't the answer, and neither are pills. The only thing that seems to blunt the edge is anything that can distract me to the point I can't think about anything else. Maybe time will do the trick, but I have been at this for ten years. TEN YEARS. and it just hurts more, the longer it goes on.

I hate crying in front of people. I hate crying by myself, and actually, I hate crying, period. It's supposed to be some kind of release, and an expression of grief, but it just keeps coming like some kind of bottomless well. And the deeper I get into the well, the darker and murkier everything becomes. I am so overcome with anger and frustration and grief. Right now, I feel like throwing up, and I am convinced that my insides would be black, like tar.
I hate the person I am becoming. I am flaky. I am weepy. I Cannot Deal. I have always been someone who tried to be strong and supportive of everyone else, and I can't seem to be that for myself. I have spent the last couple of months being forced to face every single one of my demons, repeatedly. And I am battered, scarred, and heartsick, but I am still here. I can't exactly call it a victory, but I get out of bed every morning and try to address what needs to be addressed. I would say that is successful maybe 60% of the time.

I am second-guessing myself.  A big part of my anger is directed at that. Which crappy decision can I make? What will make me happy?