As I sit here crying, hyperventilating, I find peace in the tapping of my fingertips on these keys. The noise it makes as I am frantically spreading my words, reminds me of the sound my heart makes as it’s pounding out of my chest.
Last year.. God, or whoever the fuck makes decisions, gave me a run for my money. I fell in love, I fell out of love, I was raped, I lost my family, I lost myself. In between these moments, I fought. I made my own decisions that led to late and sleepless nights, hangovers, strangers in my bed and anxiety meds.
I feel like I am falling apart. I have fallen into a million pieces and I am constantly tripping over myself as I’m trying to get by. I can’t sleep in my own bed because I have flashbacks of him forcing himself on me, and his constant texts remind me of my pain. If I do sleep, I wake up screaming for help. I have wonderful dreams of my sister and I reconnecting only to find out she still hates me when I wake up. Forty hours of clients sharing their painful stories only to go home and feel it all over again.
I am broken. I am beaten down. And all I want to do is run from it all.