I am in bed, sick with anxiety. I’ve reached a point where I no longer have a clear place to go to in my mind, because I am changing. My old consciousness is dying, the person I used to be is fading. But I haven’t found a new way of thinking yet, my new consciousness is not fully developed yet. I feel so fragile. I don’t have a home inside my mind right now because everything is changing.
There is no solid ground. My emotions are raw and at times absurdly exaggerated – it’s like my mind lacks any filter or structure. I feel every emotion as it is, without any limits, with maximum volume, always gravitating towards the wounds in my heart.
The rage I’ve been trying to repress is there, I can feel it glowing with fire somewhere inside. I don’t want it. It’s uncomfortable and feels foreign to me. Unnatural. I’ve never been able to express my rage, because I was always afraid of being punished afterwards. I don’t know how to deal with it since it feels so unfamiliar. At times I feel like screaming and destroying things to get it all out of my system, but I know it wouldn’t be enough. And it scares me. I want confrontations. I want justice. Closure. A chance to stand up for myself,, face to face with the ones causing me pain. There is no other way to get closure on the rage, but perhaps I won’t get a chance to do this, because they are too uncomfortable with facing their guilt and they don’t want to take responsibility for what they’ve done to me. It’s easy to be a coward and it takes strength to face your own guilt.
So the impossible nature of the rage turns into a bitter frustration – a silent black spot in my mind. Like it doesn’t exist more than in my fear of the thought that it would happen again. Their abuse. Their disgust and contempt of me. The rage turns into fear – the fear turns into isolation. An unnecessary self-defense strategy. And that is my prison. My fear.
I am so scared of love. At times I feel like I just want to give up. I’m constantly waiting to be betrayed or humiliated. All I have known in my heart is pain, this new happiness doesn’t seem to fit inside the pain, it’s pushing it all out and for some reason I’m making so much resistance.
But the happiness is there. The love is strong and solid. I feel ashamed of my freak outs but I feel safe and allowed to be who I am, with my weaknesses and the fear and all the ugliness I see in myself. He loves me, not the idea of me. I feel naked and exposed. But free.
I need to get out of this place where my fragility is the midpoint where all my experiences meet. Changing is so scary, but healthy. But at times I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind where there is no structure or reality right now, just old and tired ways of thinking that doesn’t work anymore and a vague understanding of who I am changing into.
I just have to hold on. I just have to keep moving forward.