Let's start a couple weeks ago, on Friday March 20. I was on my way home from work, and I thought "how long until my birthday?" At the time, it was 10 weeks and two days. "Okay, how long until I'm out of my twenties?" 62 weeks and four days. "You know, for years, I believed that I would not live to see my 31st birthday. If that were true, how long do I have left?" 803 days--at most. "Well, that's not much time to do anything, is it? Good thing I don't believe that anymore." *cue nervous laughter* (I know it sounds weird that I believe(d) that, but I can't seem to shake that idea, even now) I'm not sure where that idea came from or why, every time it comes up, I believe it so strongly.
Jumping ahead to that Sunday morning. I didn't sleep well the night before, even considering the fact that I only got three hours of sleep, so I was kind of shaky. Then, during setup, one of the singers reported that she couldn't get in because the cops stopped her due to a bomb threat in the area. Being fully in "tough guy mode," I was joking around about it, but I think it hit me harder than I realized at the time. Later at work, I completely broke down and had to leave early because I couldn't stop crying after two angry customers in a row.
I spent about a week and a half feeling like someone had recorded the world and was playing it back to me at 105% speed--just enough that everything seemed off and I felt like I was moving too slowly, but only at a subconscious level--and that nothing I have ever done or will ever do matters.
Fast forward to this last Sunday at church. The message made me realize that a lot of my hope didn't pass the "death test." It's all rooted in this world. That helped a lot, even though I'm still struggling with the whole "believing that I won't live to be 31" thing.
However, connection group made me face something that I try not to think about. At one point, the leader said "It seems like we (the group) care more about you than you do. It seems like you don't care about yourself." Just the fact that he said this should tell you how true the first half of that is (if not the whole thing). Other people care about me far more than I do, and that bothers me. Not the "I don't care about myself" part. No. The part that bothers me is that other people DO care, because if they do, they're only going to be hurt when I screw up and hurt myself (physically or otherwise). The thought that people might actually care about me keeps me up at night worrying.
That worry is telling me to just delete this whole rambling post and keep these thoughts to myself. It's kind of funny. I can't sleep because I'm worried that people are worried about me, and I don't want to worry them any more than I have to.
Part of me is screaming to just cut off ties with everyone and disappear for a while. "Just be a complete jerk to everyone that seems to care about you and then run away. No one cares about people that are mean for no reason," it says. "Or if you don't want to seem like a jerk, just make up some excuse and disappear that way."
All I can think of to end this post is the phrase that has been dancing through my head over and over again since this relapse began.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
No comments:
Post a Comment