The problem with being a violent over thinker is the increased likelihood that someone else’s words or actions are going to perpetrate way more damage than maybe intended – or in the very least than they should – because they will be rolled around and around in your brain like balls in a lottery wheel.  It also increases the chances of feeling extreme waves of guilt because no matter what you are doing it isn’t enough.  At least that’s what you will tell yourself, over and over again when your brain has literally exhausted every possible option of how you could do it better.

It’s ok, in small doses, I guess – but when it feels like you are failing everyone?  When it seems like everyone is a little bit sad because of something you’ve done – or in many cases failed miserably to do?

That’s when it starts to feel useless.  Pointless beyond any explanation.  You’re not happy and apparently no one else is either so what the fuck?  Let’s just all stop then.  Wouldn’t it be better?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I don’t have enough time.

I am not available.

I am not accessible.

I am not sympathetic.

I am not forgiving.

I am not a good __________ insert life role here.

These are the things I am not, or so it seems and I sway between wanting to hang my head in defeat and walk in the other direction quietly and wanting to shout loudly WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

It changes moment to moment.

The things I am not are hurting people I love.

The things I am have filled me to the point of unbearable stress.

We have, it seems, a bit of a problem.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I know what she’d ask me, if I was sitting in her chair.  It’s a weird thing I do, thinking about her after all these years.  She was my therapist for literally 3 months, a mere glimpse of a moment in time.  But she was so damn right all the time, she could figure out how to get me to see what I needed to without asking me ridiculous or obvious or embarrassing questions.

Do you think it’s your job to make everyone else happy?

And the logical part of me would answer no, of course not.

And the illogical part of me would say

of course.  of course it is.

stranger than your sympathy
this is my apology
i’m killing myself from the inside out
and now my head’s been filled with doubt
it’s hard to live the life you choose
when all your luck’s run out on you
and everything’s all wrong
you choke on the regret
who the hell did i think i was?