Gaahguhgh. (Yes that's a sound.) As I'm going down the list I'm just "haha right!... fools... wait... ...fuck." My feelz just got domerocked. A few of these (

Gaahguhgh. (Yes that's a sound.) As I'm going down the list I'm just "haha right!... fools... wait... ...fuck." My feelz just got domerocked. A few of these (and by a few I mean at least half) I can easily say I've either done before - in one way or another - or I still engage in regularly. And obviously, I'm miserable! And good god. I have been really blind lately... The habit about therapy: "...and if there's still that one person who loves you so much that they're clinging to some hope of a counselor helping you..." ah jeeeez, Last night the love of my life and father of my child said I'm pushing him away, that I push everyone away; and last week while I was crying to my mother about how stressed I was over my finals, my mom mentioned finding a therapist for me to talk to. I felt immediately resistant, and it upset me and I was probably rude to her... as far as my dude, I asked him how I push people away, saying "I want to know what it is that I do so that I can stop doing it," and he says "well you freak out all the time," and WHAM! here comes the emotion. "What do you mean freak out? Because I have panic attacks? Because I don't know how to handle my emotions?! Well maybe if people loved me more I wouldn't feel so anxious!" - the worst part is I really believe myself sometimes. Holy fuck I don't want to be this person. I've been an active blogger before and written about my "depression," my "anxiety" - I've been going through these weird emotional spats since I was maybe 4 or 5, and I guess I just never got over them? (side note: this is where the maternal blame comes in) - and I would say a lot of the things that are sounding so ridiculous in this moment. "My mom wasn't good to her kids, my mom's mom wasn't good to hers - it's just in my blood. Therefore it's my mothers fault that I'm an alcoholic." WTF? Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with me? People have mentioned at various times throughout my life that I'm addicted to sadness. And I thought, yeah it's true, in an "I'm an artist living in Seattle, I play acoustic guitar, only wear black, and hate it when movies have happy endings" kinda way. I could identify with that hipster-like and almost-endearing cliche, if we're going that far... I digress.. The fucking point is that I have never genuinely realized that I am a shithead, living my life and trying to do something with it but "somehow everything seems to not work out," and "why does this keep happening to me?" Hooo. Lee. FUCK! I've been playing the victim, making unnecessary accusations, then causing a scene when the accused (understandably) wants to get the fuck away from me, and then falling into holes of rage sorrow self-hatred and whatever the fuck else that basically equals MISERY. And I've been telling myself, and anyone else who will listen to me, that I can't help it. And goddamnit I believed it when I said it. Fucking thank god I read this right now. I really need to turn some shit around. And I know I can. I'm a recovering alcoholic - I've been a shithead for as long as I can remember - so I've spent a lot of time, too much time, talking about self-improvement. And I've made progress before; I've been happy. But this regression I've slipped into has gotten way outta control, and I am actually grateful for the first time in a while that I randomly clicked on this thread. Alright I'm gonna stop now. I bookmarked the article and I'm making a commitment to myself right now to think about this when my emotions start to run wild. I'm changing my attitude right now, and I am gonna go kiss that wonderful man on the head... the one who I've been treating like shit and pushing away for months ...and start to act in love again. Maybe I'll report back later.