Sorry, i can't hang out with you
I want to
go.
But i can't.
My friends tell me to do it.
My therapist encourages me.
I want
to do it.
But at the same
time I don’t.
I know I wont
go.
I could go.
I could still be there in time if I
leave the house right now.
If I just go now, nobody will now that I struggled
8 hours
to make the decision whether to participate in that event or not.
I had all
day to prepare myself mentally, but I still chicken out.
I’m so
frustrated,
i snap at my best friend and punch the nearest object.
i snap at my best friend and punch the nearest object.
It’s a
wall.
Could have been worse, it could have been a person.
The blood streaming
down my hand feels good.
It shouldn’t, but it does.
It feels like power, like
control, something i've been fighting for every second for years now.
I look at
the blood dripping down my wrist and then wash it off.
I take my
phone out of my backpocket und type in a message:
“sorry, I can’t make it, something
else came up smiley face, heart emoji”
I turn the
phone off because I already know that I wont like the answer.
I go back to my
bed, lay down and cry.
It’s always
the same.
I’ll make plans.
I’ll be excited and hopeful.
It will be fun.
It will
be great.
I’ll be able to do it this time.
The day
arrives, I fail.
I don’t
know which part of me it is, that keeps me from enjoying my life, that makes me
a coward and a terrible person to be around, that chains me to this f*cking
house and makes me a prisoner of my own mind.
I just can't understand it.
I probably wouldn’t
even panic outside.
I probably wouldn’t hate hanging out with people.
It probably
would be fine.
And even if I’d get a panic attack, they would be understanding
and supportive
and I wouldn’t die or embarres myself too much or anger them or disappoint
anyone but myself.
- I can tell
myself that, but I just can’t believe in it.
It’s not
just those obvious things, it’s everything going on on the inside.
I can look
like the most calm and content person, laying in the sunshine
and at the same
time there’s a war going on inside my body.
No matter
what I do, I’m just not able to enjoy it at all.
I keep worrying and thinking
over every single detail that could go wrong
and the fear eats me up
alive.
I’m so tired and exhausted,
because I can’t shut my f*cking thoughts off for just one minute.
I’m having
the worst headache, because the stereotypical darkness in my head is so heavy,
and the migrane won’t go away, because every little bit of light, every bright
thought, is blinding me.
I’m so
angry at myself for letting other people down and for not being able to get my
shit together and my butt out of my comfort zone
- I can’t change it but neither
I'm i able to accept that.
I’m so
embarrassed and uncomfortable with myself and with what that illness does to me,
and I have no idea how to tell new people or old friends about my problem.
So I just
cancel everything, go to bed in the middle of the day and write about it on the
internet.
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