My Secret

My family recently experienced an unimaginable loss and it has made me start to think.  A lot.  Which is generally dangerous.

It’s amazing what I am willing to share with all of you… I am willing to strip myself bare for all of you, when to be honest, I don’t think I could verbally articulate the words I share here.  Hell, these posts end up on my Twitter and Facebook pages – some of you may be reading this from my high school, haven’t talked to you in years and yet, here I am.  Sharing my vulnerable moments.

My secret is I am the most insecure person you will ever meet.  Literally.  Maybe this disease has made me vulnerable to insecurities… but I think back and I have always been insecure.  I have always wanted to be the “cool girl” but could never quite make it.  I have always been self-deprecating (minus the excessive modesty part).

I guess my point is I feel as if I have always been the person to be willing to take on everyone’s emotional baggage.  Maybe so I never really had to deal with my own.  Maybe I am just selfish enough to think I can cure the world of it’s suffering and madness.

I am exceptional at alienating people and then blaming them for abandoning me.  Maybe “I” isn’t the right term… my monster?  Who knows anymore.  As I begin to “accept” this disease into my life I am beginning to lose a grip on who I am.  It gets more and more difficult to discern Amanda vs. the MD… I feel like either I am becoming Amanda again, or becoming the monster.  Somebody has to win…

As I begin the last legs of tapering off my benzo I feel more and more dissociated from myself.  I feel less needed by people.  I feel like I need people more.  I don’t reach out and ask for help because… well… what’s the point?  I feel pissy and short-tempered.  I am always jealous.  Jealous of what I don’t have, jealous of what I will never have, jealous of what I see my friends doing for their other friends.

I have said before I know how high maintenance I am to have as a friend.  I wouldn’t want to be my friend.

When I have the balls to share these feelings with Matt he asks me what I want and I just say I don’t know – because I don’t.  I feel like a hormonal, pissy 15 year old.  I don’t know what I want.  A connection?  To feel needed?  To understand myself so others have a chance to?

MW

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