Being anxious and being anxious are totally different in my book. YES I wrote that statement twice. First I could be anxious about a test, final exam I have to take or anxious about a doctor’s appointment. Then second I could be anxious about leaving my Tuscany alone, or anxious about the sounds in my head, or that of going outside my home.
Yes there is a difference, cause the first won’t lead me to an anxiety attack, whereas the secone will. WHY? I’ve tried to rationalize this in my head, but that is where I get lost. Darkness encompasses my world, and I think of every possibility there is out there that death is going to come after me or those I love.
Last night I had a nightmare in which felt so real, and on a certain level it was. I reverted back to the teenage years where everything was about ME ME ME and I I I had to get it all no matter ther cost.
In the nightmare, I was not a teenager, but me now, almost thirty years old and self harm was my answer to everything. It didn’t matter what it was about, or who it encompassed.
Now I’m not going to describe the entire dream, but I will describe how he looked at me for the last time before he walked away. FUCK I had done it, I had sent the man of my dreams away, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. I turned towards something I swore off and went to counseling about. BUT HERE in dreamland it didn’t matter, there was blood everywhere, being slashed in every way possible. I had cut my stomach open, and lets just say the life that was there inside of me, that was part of BOTH of us was open, peering out into a world for the first and last time. I had lost him and what our love made together.
This was in dreamland, my nightmare…..