Tripping over myself
I’ve been going back and forth trying to decide if I should start to write about this journey that I seem to be on. To begin talking about the intentional torment that is inflicted daily and has been apart of my life for the past few years. Taking a turn at the fork in the road that has lead me to where I am today. A little lost, disillusioned and desperately trying to heal the scars that I’ve collected. Although I am bruised and nurturing the open sores that continue to have salt poured into them, I’m looking forward in hopes that maybe, just maybe, this journey does have a meaning.
In talking with my inner circle of people, which ironically has dwindled through this process, I find myself wanting to share these moments. Wanting to share because I know, I can not be the only on going through this. And maybe, as I share my story, I will find others who are also going through this and have remedies to lessen the blows. Or maybe, just writing about it will eliminate some of the anxiety that has built up to a point where I struggle to do basic things like leave the house or be seen in this shit hole of a town. A town, that a million + tourist clamor to come visit yearly. If they only knew the ugly secret of this place. That the people who make up this town don’t want them, don’t appreciate them and are willing to do pretty much anything to destroy their own economy if it means the tourism industry will die…
I digress.
I have joked with friends saying, thank goodness I’m allergic to alcohol, cause I would be a raging alcoholic in an effort to calm the pain. Instead of using alcohol as my blanket to comfort me, I have found a liking to pain pills. As I write this, I squirm, as I realize talking about this journey means I am dismantling the stoic image that I have tried so hard to hide behind. This illusion that I’ve created was so that I could survive and pretend that no fucks were given, when in reality, I am self medicating to get out of bed and function as a real person. To engage, and maybe live.
After all that, I find myself here, in front of my computer, searching for the best way to tell this convoluted fucked up story that has become my life. I ask if you are reading this, to please have patience as I won’t be telling this as it unfolded or continues to develop. I will tell it as my emotions bubble up or when I remember something. Or, just to release the feelings.
Here goes nothing.
