July 6, 2020 – The mold that clings like desperation
I find myself so challenged to forgive myself. Not for any one thing but for everything. For all the things I am not. The last 4 weeks have been a “flood the kitchen” kind of struggle. The kind I told myself I was going to handle better this time. I’ve learned that I lack the perspective required to know these things; and I think I might be close to flooding my kitchen again.
My feeling of obligation is so strong and I so hate to disappoint those who depend on me. I know I have not dealt with Shelby’s death. I can’t even bring myself to tell anybody that it happened or affected me. Instead of leaning on those closest to me, I have isolated myself more. Then the RMA issue blew up and, even though I know I have very little to add to the effort, I am now spending 80-hours a week on it because I can’t stand the thought of dumping it on Robert. I promised Kate I would help her with her lights. Afterwards though, I felt really used. I knew I needed somebody to do something to help me and I don’t know how to ask. I’m actually incapable of asking or even implying that I need help. The feeling I had when I got home was complete despair. I felt drained. I felt like I had left everything of myself for others. Even though I hadn’t really done much of anything physical that day I just wanted to curl up in a ball. I don’t sleep, or not well anyway.
Today I didn’t even look at my TP. I couldn’t bring myself to have to skip another workout; or worse, fail it. When I logged on, I found that my coach had given me the week off and some kind words. Instead of relief or joy, I felt dejected. I couldn’t help thinking I was capable of better. I am my own worst enemy. I am destructive. I am broken.