Today, I feel like Benson from Regular Show. There was the episode where Pops told Benson not to yell at Mordecai and Rigby, no matter how annoying they were. Benson did what Pops told him to do because he did not want to get fired. But Benson just felt his rage building and building and building. And when Pops saw how red Benson’s face was getting, he allowed Benson to release his rage. Thank Goodness Skips told Pops that Benson holding all of that rage was extremely unhealthy.
I more and more feel like Benson. I am much less expressive than I used to be. It gets to the point where I am trapped inside of myself and feel there is no fucking way out. When I feel extremely stressed, I literally shut down. I fear I may elicit the wrong response so much that I barely respond at all. Of course, sometimes I melt down, too, but that is much rarer. I only melt down when I literally cannot hold it in any longer. It takes a lot for me to melt down. It doesn’t seem like it, but believe me, I have been through a lot. I maintained pretty well until my credit was fucked last year and until my oldest aunt died in March 2014 (my closure didn’t come until November 2015, right before Thanksgiving) and until my mother blew up at me for spending too much money on a credit card (I didn’t have any goddamn money because I had to wait a fucking month for a paycheck while still owing a shit ton on student loans. And did I spend all that money on myself? Fuck no. I am a giving person.) Needless to say, I was a wreck. A very fucking angry wreck at that. And I complained about legitimate things. Let’s be honest. Things seemed pretty shitty. I had a bit of support, but like my ex-boyfriend said, “If the sun shines, you have friends, but if it rains, your friends leave you.” That is exactly the shit that happened to me.
I apologize for bringing up the past, but I needed a confidant, a.k.a WordPress. I needed my Benson blow-up moment. At least I am doing it in a more civilized way because I am not that angry. I am going through a slight panic attack, though. My panic attacks have gotten so stupid that I don’t want to tell anyone about them any fucking more. I tried talking to people for the first year they started, buuuuut that has gotten me in more trouble than it is worth talking about. I have scared the shit out of people to the point where I isolate myself so they can move on and not suffer from my (albeit completely accidental) bullshit. And I have totally beyond pissed off my fiancé. I don’t want to repeat his reactions. And yeah, he understands my panic attacks. (He gets them on occasion, but his are more understandable and manageable). He isn’t directly angry with me. He is just frustrated that I don’t have them under control. He has more belief than I do when it comes to these things. He has told me countless suggestions, which is the main reason I have not been committed anywhere.
I am lucky to have my fiancé. He is very sweet. He is playing Team Fortress 2 right now. I will make him a bowl of ice cream soon.
Thank you for reading (or doing a Too Long; Didn’t Read). I apologize to my followers for flooding your E-mail inboxes with this bullshit, but I had to let some steam out. Thank you again.
Xara Nahara O’Connor