WANTED: Dead or Alive

 

   

I have a husband who is absolutely perfect and I can’t stand it. I must seem hopeless to him. It’s all the same. Everyday is the same. I feel lonely and while he goes out into the world he takes it for granted while I take my life for granted. funny. I had a major panic attack today and the new meds didn’t work and the old ones made me sick. I just don’t know how to get through to him that as hard as I try I can’t just turn it off. It takes lots and lots of practice while being tutored by a professional to know the secrets to calm your heart rate. Everyone wants to say “breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth” and I’m here to say ITS BULL SHIT. Also, concentrate on something else…..thats a popular one. Well, I can’t find the sense in these, and I realize I need some major therapy. I’m just obsessed with being normal. I think, well normal people can’t find the time to go to a therapist every fucking time they feel bitchy……but then again most normal people don’t occasionally think they would be better off dead than alive. It’s like those old western fugitive posters…..WANTED: ALIVE OR DEAD.  Thats what my depression and anxiety attacks tack up on every fucking wall in my house. So I just run, run run and run again from all of it. It’s going to take some time to patch me up inside and I know that one day I will find that the husband and all those doctors were right. I have decided to go to therapy…..ughhh I hate even typing it. I just lived through all the trauma in my life you know? I don’t want to re-hash it up again with some stranger, cry and have him/her tell me to do some weird chi or mantra shit. BUUUUUUUUUUUT (i dragged that out because this is the way I talk, I type like I talk) I will go to some woman or man at a place called Compass Carolina. Not excited. I just wonder if it will even help, you may ask, “have you ever tried therapy before?” and Ill say: DUH DUMB SHIT. hence, not so excited and no one has EVER been able to get through to me, its just not possible. I wonder if hypnotherapy would be useful. Yes, someone program my brain so I never have to lose feeling in my muscles again from hyperventilation. If it were that easy, we’d all have a story about going to get a hypnotherapist to change us somehow and word would have traveled fast. BUUUUT NO, we haven’t. Plus bringing up all the bad shit without me being able to put it in journal form (like wordpress) is terrifying. Typing it is one thing, but saying it all out loud is another. I don’t know what lucky soul gets to read my blogs lol but if you have any comments or ideas I am welcoming them all. My depression is not me whining. My anxiety attacks leave me in the floor of the toilet room exhausted from throwing up and with the worst hangover. ugh it sucks. It comes after me with its guns a’blazin taking no prisoners, killing everything I built around me like relationships etc….god, my husband must think I”m nuts. I went to a grocery store, saw my picture and the town of depression had issued a warrant. Miriam Cromer: WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE. Its such a bad place the depression takes me to that I cant help but think that it will haunt me even after I die. NOw, thats just siiiiilllllly. I sail away into a gray sky morning and leaving him there to stay. A song says that by vertical horizon, but seriously what will I word vomit up next? I’m never going to get readers to join my blog. eeeek. sorry guys, when I’m not bleeding out everywhere I go due to this huge hole in my soul i’ll stop whining and start writing short stories. 

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