I was in the line for a hamburger today, because I can’t afford anything else until I get paid.
I was sitting there, in the car, frustrated with the anxiety I get every day at work.
It makes me dread getting up (see last post), it makes me feel nervous and jittery while I’m at work, and it doesn’t make the day any brighter.
I’m trying so hard in therapy to combat this anxiety. I think I’ve made some progress but I’m nowhere where I want to be. But still, I surprised myself when that thought came in my head, the though that hasn’t been there in a while: “Maybe I should just kill myself.”
It actually startled me. I’m not that depressed, am I? I think I’m just frustrated. I’ve been going to therapy since I was 15. That was nine years ago. I’m actually starting to “work” therapy in the right way, I think, but how many more days will I have to feel like I’m going to have a heart attack at work?
I’m trying tapping. I’m trying meditation. I’m trying positive self-talk and inspiration. I’m trying.
I’m just not getting used to what I want quickly, I guess. That’s something I’m learning with time, and boy, is it a pill.
I’m going to listen to The Loved Ones and chill out. Make myself feel good for what I have accomplished. Have faith, because that’s all I can hold on to.