“Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.”
Paulo Coelho
I woke up this morning feeling exhausted again.
Like I didn’t sleep (even though I slept). Like a fog has overtaken my mind.
The anxiety is ever present in the womb of my gut, in the crevices of my mind. The fear of leaving the bedroom, the house, the car, haunts me. The world seems too large to handle right now.
The familiar knot rises in my throat, threatening tears, but I’m too tired to cry again. I feel like I’m grieving, but I don’t know what (or who) died.
Maybe an idea? A vision I had of my past that now is becoming too clear, too real?
I cannot keep going like this. The constant mental anguish is no way to live life. I want to be free of my mind’s cage.
I hate the slow moving sludge of therapy. I know it’s necessary, but when will it end? When will the nagging pain cease? I want to live again.
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