I’m hurting pretty badly right now. I’ve been dealing with the 10th anniversary of a traumatic event, one that fucked me up and dramatically altered the course of my life.
Ten years. The anniversary snuck up on me. I didn’t see it coming until it was too late, and it fucking clobbered me. I spent the weekend partying with old friends, trying to annihilate myself, knowing full well none of it would make me feel any better or any less.
The party’s over now, and I’m alone in my room watching Nurse Jackie re-runs and crying my eyes out. I guess I’m writing this down just to prove to myself that I know what’s going on in my head, that I have a name for it, that I know empirically all the causes and reasons.
Not that it matters. A rational explanation for all this pain won’t help make it go away. I just have to feel this shit and move on.
It’s hard, though. The worst part is that I feel ashamed to be hurting like this. It’s not the better part of my nature, but I’m angry at myself. This is weakness, and I’m supposed to be stronger than this. I’m supposed to be over this already.
Ugh. I hate feeling broken.