I want out

Dear Stacy,

I don't think I can do this.

My value from an early age was based on how I looked and what my weight was, and not much else. I refuse to question whether or not I am capable of shaking off those nasty things lodged in my head because I already KNOW that I'm not. Honestly, they are, and have always been, a MASSIVE part of who I am. But, before you start calling me a crybaby (and OK, I might be one,) allow me to admit that I am guilty of an even worse grievance: for each instance in which someone verbally shoved my head into the mud, I would dunk it three more times. Yes, I have a long history of kicking my own ass. This not only set the stage for who I would become, but it provided me with something to FEEL. It made me...ME!

I did counseling, and read lots of self-help books but eventually I had to concede that it was to big to overcome. So, I slowly covered that wound with tar and straw and eventually forget that it was there. Now, I feel like I have opened up a gaping hole. A Big. Gaping. Mother. F'ing. Hole. The answer to the question, "can you hide from reality?" is YES YOU CAN! Man, yes you can! I found the biggest stick that I could and I stuffed it so far down, it really seemed to be gone. I would have gotten away with it too if it hadn't been for all of this infernal mental exploration. Who could have seen this coming? The golden rule here is: only do a public mental cleaning if you think you are in good mental shape, 'cause reality will always bite you in the ass!! Now I feel like an ant that's been hiding under a rock, but some IDIOT has LIFTED that rock and I feel completely exposed. I am raw emotionally and I don't want to deal with this.

And I ALWAYS deal with stuff...I never hide.

But now it's too late. I can't put the rock back down because it never will fit the right way again. I'd be squishing all the other ants and, well, it just doesn't work anymore. This is the point when you need to imagine me shaking my fists in the air and screaming the F word about 32 times. Then kicking a police car.....42 times (cause I DARE them to mess with me.)

I want to go back in time. I want it to be last week when I was oblivious to all of this. I knew I felt bad, but I DID NOT KNOW THAT I STILL CARRIED ALL OF THIS SHIT WITH ME. I did not know that I had internalized all of this, and now I am just dazed. I am depressed and I feel helpless. Stacy, do you remember saying that you can't relate to pictures of your younger self? Well I CAN relate to this pitiful little piece of my old self whimpering in the corner of my heart. Man, she hurt like Hell for so long, and I feel intensely sad for her but she isn't a disconnected, younger version of myself. It's me. It's still me.

I don't have anywhere to hide, and I so badly need to run from this.

I just wanna be who I was a week ago.