Sometimes anxiety and depression are strange bedfellows and made worse when C-PTSD come into play. Sometimes when I’m in that hole, telling me solutions will help pull me out. But sometimes…
Sometimes it digs me deeper. Sometimes it makes me think that those options would work for a regular person, but not me. Sometimes I feel isolated by your suggestions and wish you would just crawl down here and hold me while I feel like shit.
Sometimes that makes you feel like shit, like I don’t listen to you. Sometimes it makes you think I’m all about the negative and all my work has reverted. That I’m 2017 Me again…. and sometimes I think you are right.
Sometimes that makes the ditch swallow me whole. That I have fallen so far, that I am so unworthy that the work I did wasn’t enough. Sometimes I think it never will be. That I will never get better no matter how hard I work….
Sometimes it makes me angry. Makes me feel like all you want to do is fix me, and make me positive 100% of the time. Sometimes it makes me feel like you don’t love the broken dirty parts of me, but only love me when I’m the happier me.
Sometimes you love me, and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you help me, sometimes I wish you wouldn’t. Sometimes I wish you would just love me bad and broken. Sometimes I feel like you never could. Sometimes I think I deserve someone who would, and sometimes I believe that only death will.