I’m really good at running. I evade tough situations with family by not calling them or visiting. Oddly enough, so does my family. I pretend my credit debt isn’t as bad as it is by not opening bills. I walk the other way when things get prickly with friends. I quit jobs when things get too tough. I spend money as if it’s a never ending commodity just for some “normalcy.”

You see, my inability to control my anxiety has taken over my life. I can go home from a perfectly executed work event and wonder if perhaps my boss is pissed because I left one of 150 folders at the office as opposed to bringing it to the event. This small thought will then snowball and all of a sudden I’m wide awake at 4 am and hating everything about life from my lack of sleep and thinking about the twenty million other things I’ve done wrong that week. I can be with a group of friends just shooting the breeze and two hours later I am on the brink of hyperventilating because I hope I didn’t come off like a snot rocket, or bossy, or bitchy, or just down right annoying.

Then there are the moments where I actually DO fuck up. Where I cross the line and everything feels awkward and uncomfortable for days, weeks and months. Because my ability to harp on things, even things that are just an issue in my own head, is exponentially amazing. Like those times I decided I really needed to pop pill x and pill y and ended up passing out.

In both cases I was having severe panic attacks. Neither time did I want to tell anyone. Consequently I “self-medicated” and truly ended up looking like a dickhead.

I mean, if the shoe fits. The shoe fuckin’ fits.

The worst part is that I don’t find enough space within my heart to be more empathetic towards others. Which of course leads me to further anxiety because if I’m not doing it then I can’t expect others to do it for me. And the vicious cycle begins all over again.

I’m too judgmental and I justify it by reminding myself that I do this as a way to protect myself. But that blows up too.

So, back when I up and left this blog to get dusty, all of my doubts had manifested themselves in a way that was crippling me. At the time, I decided that the best thing to do was drop this place like a hot potato. Because I’d been allowing it to cause me negativity instead of taking it for what it is. Part of this began when I started to show my face. Frankly, being a loud-mouthed asshole is pretty fucking easy when no one knows who you are.

What I’m trying to say is that I miss this place. My fears and frustrations haven’t ebbed just because I stopped blogging. But I’ve had one less avenue to express myself and I’m not exactly fond of this.