Sometimes I worry. No, I worry a lot. I'm a nervous and tightly wound person, most people wouldn't know, until they're present for a moment where I can't hold it in and I explode into a symphony of hyperventilation and tears, often accompanied by stifled screams about how much I hate what I am. I am afraid of being with other people in a bed, alone. I am afraid of men in general. I am afraid of saying no to men when I'm in bed with them, alone. I've spent this year tearing myself apart and being torn apart physically and emotionally trying to find some comfort for the bad things done to me in the summer months of 2007. Instead I feel like all I've done is regress, into old habits, old thoughts, old emotions, and even older coping mechanisms.
I can only spend so much time thinking about throwing myself head first through a window before I actually do it. I think that's still a while yet, and maybe I'll stop thinking about it before then.
I started my new year drunk and pissing blood. Old habits and old coping mechanisms led me there, this time I couldn't even pretend it was fun at first. The fact is that until I suck it up and start actually talking about it, or doing something about it, I'm going to keep putting myself in violently degrading situations, and I'll keep being afraid of men.
p.s. Sorry I suck at posting on a more than biannually basis anymore