Fear and Loathing

Shame is an insidious monster. Rearing its head--perhaps unbidden, but always lethal. Paralyzing. Suffocating.

Sometimes life serves up everything you ever doubted about yourself in super-size helpings all at once. I'm not a good mother. I don't know my kids. I lose my temper too easily. I'm difficult. I'm lazy. I'm afraid. I'm a fraud. I'm sad. I'm tired. I'm not enough. I never will be.

I want to throw up, but instead I chew my nails to the quick...my cuticles until they bleed. I grind my teeth and hold my breath and fantasize about worst-case scenarios while the voice inside my head that repeats everything negative I've ever heard hurled in my direction just won't shut up.

I know it's not real. I know it's only temporary. I know the sun will come out tomorrow (somewhere on earth, if not here).

But right now I'm just so tired. So tired. And I want to hide away in the dark. Alone. For a long time.

And I know I won't.

But I allow myself this evening of self-pity. Just this one. In my very own, run-of-the-mill, melodramatic way. Bleh.