Well my amygdala is very firmly in control of my brain at the moment. Strong little fucker, like a jack russell on coke, selling me fight and flight, two for the price of one. Jaws like a gin trap, teeth like a tiger’s, gaze as baleful as a basilisk’s.
Shrinks one and two will have brighter eyes than mine when they ask how my Christmas was. I’ll probably look a bit confused while I try to explain that I was in an uncomfortable stupor, interspersed with hectic agitation and a little light self harm. Got my Christmas sodding stocking stuffed full of triggers and shame and pain.
The other day I added self harm to the list of things I track. How utterly fucking great, I went a few years clear of it and now… well here I fucking am again. There’s so much good in and about my life and I can’t seem to do more than look through a fish tank at it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I hate myself so fucking much. I just can’t seem to catch a fucking break these days. Well actually my main issue at the moment is that I don’t know how to make sense of my life. That’s the crux of it.