Diary of the Recovering

Recovering....

That's a weird word, but you know, it may finally be what is happening to me. I don't like that it took many semi-intense experience to finally get me to see what was wrong.

I have felt anxious since I was in middle school. Freaking out about things that probably weren't worthy of freaking out about. Wondering why I felt so freaked out all the time, and attributing it to being in middle school, I guess. It was a while ago, so I really don't remember what was happening.

I know through high school, I dealt with depression. I dealt with pretty much just hating myself and not understanding why. I had a perfectly average high school experience. Not much else to say in that regard.

Something good has to happen soon. Something has to get me on the track back to life. Whether it be a job, or meeting new people.

Therapist says so...

My therapist says journaling helps lower anxiety. I mean, I suppose it does - and I've tried to write my mind in a book, but I just can't do it. Something about typing it makes it easier. Faster. More convenient. So instead of journaling, I'm just going to use this - it exists because I've written enough things to make it a some-what substantial collection of my life over the last few years, so lets just continue it. I blogged everyday for a year awhile back. Or at least I tried to. So there's really nothing to tell me that I can't do it again. I'm not going to set an official challenge again, because I like the ability to not have to  do it. But, if it looks like blogging helps the anxiety, this blog will become alive again. I know that nobody actually reads it, but that's kind of what I like about it. The ability to write whatever I feel that I need to without anyone judging what comes out.


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My birthday was yesterday. It was actually not as bad as I was anticipating it would be. Not with how the summer has been. I've pretty much been a solo act the entire summer. Don't really have any friends, and without a job, I sit here at home kind of in my own head. Not kind of. Really in my own head. When this last relationship ended, the first thing I realized is that I was going to spend my birthday alone. Realistically, it's not that bad of a thing. I'm just afraid of being alone. I don't want to be here by myself, but I don't know if I know how to trust someone anymore.

He messaged me happy birthday on the one social media site that I forgot to block him on. Who does that. Did you forget - 

YOU RAPED ME. 

I am a statistic because of you. 

I have never really hated anyone or anything in my entire life, but my soul is on fire for the hate that feel towards you. You are a terrible, horrible human being and I can't believe you thought it would be okay to show up in my life on my BIRTHDAY. Everything was great until you showed up. Fuck you. Seriously. I have to live with this hatred of you, and the act that happened because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants. I have to live with the untrust that you have given me. 

YOU WERE MY BEST FRIEND.

HOW DO YOU DO THAT TO A FRIEND? 

HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO A FRIEND?

I have to live with this forever.

Does your mother know that you are a rapist? Could she look at you if she knew? I bet everyone thinks we broke up because I'm crazy. I bet you never told anyone about you raping me.

I have this rage inside my soul that I have never felt in my entire life. Rage that has come into my dreams. I dreamt last night that something happened that made me so fucking angry I was smashing plates and screaming at people. I can't remember what it was, and I don't think it's that important. But what is important is the fact that I used to be such a well-tempered individual. Not a lot of shit made me mad, not a lot of stuff annoyed me. And now I am just full of this hatred, and rage because one person decided to invade me in the way that no human should ever be invaded.