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Today is really hard. I had to pull out of dog sitting my landlords dog because right now I'm so anxious that I'm useless and I'm going to mess things up and hurt her (dog) that I just cannot do it. And I'm feeling really really sick inside because a friend was interrogating me about my family history the last time I saw her and I'm sure she thought I was lying about some of it and I'm honestly, honestly not. I'm just so anxious about everything that it sounds like it. I'm just not sure.
I should never have told her anything. I should have just shut up and faked it. Or better yet I should have done a better a job of attempting. Or my father should have done a better job of strangling me. He really should have done, I'm that worthless. Because while I am biracial I know almost nothing about my heritage. Better to just have said that my family is Jewish and emigrated to England and Scotland from Poland. Much much better than explaining the stupid stupid complicated story that I only half know and aren't sure of. Maybe I am just appropriating for attention but I really really don't think I am. And I can't even cry in front of people anymore. I just...it hurts so much. So so much.
See I'm in fandom. I make sense of a lot of things through writing, through words. And so I have a poem, reputedly written by Anne Boleyn in the tower (Natalie Dormer's Anne Boleyn is my darling darling favourite, though I love Annabelle Wallis' Jane Seymour so so much too) 'Death Rock Me Asleep' and I type it out when I'm feeling really really triggered and alone and sad/worthless. And it helps, weirdly. Because somehow by typing I can somehow get the ugliness off my chest. I just don't always need to look at it.
I am neither well nor happy right now. I hate that I'm on disability and such a mess that getting out of bed is so hard (getting out of bed!) and trying not to SI is a struggle that I cannot believe. I really cannot. I panic ALL THE TIME and I can barely sleep for replaying conversations (in which I work out everything I did wrong ever) and images of attempting in my head so I give up and cry. I can barely read or watch TV. Dealing with support services/services makes me feel sick. Dealing with anything makes me feel sick.
I just...I want it to stop. I want my safe bookstore job back. I want to have not f__d up my relationship with my beloved beautiful we were engaged girlfriends. I want this all to stop. I'd attempt again if I wasn't sure that G-d hates me. That I'm doing terrible at working on being Jewish (I'm I guess of Jewish descent but wasn't really bought up in the faith so) and I'm clearly not trying. I'm clearly too needy. And it hurts and I'm sore and I just want it to stop. I really really do.
(I am going to go eat my frozen yoghurt, watch Obamas be adorable and then text a friend)