It hit me like a kick to the chest. Suddenly it was hard to breath. My vision tunneled. My heart felt like someone was standing on it.
I cried for an hour.
Now I just feel cold and numb. And the worst part is, I don’t want to try and figure it out. I don’t want to speculate about why it happened or how it happened or what I can do about it.
I am an abused shell of a person. My abuser is my depression, my tormentor is my anxiety, and I am simply waiting for the next punch to land.
I am not even bothering to block them anymore. Because really, what’s the point? Why bother trying to duck or dodge the next hit? Why bother trying to predict where the next swing is coming from? What’s the use in trying to figure out a way to escape?
I can’t get a restraining order or change my name and suddenly be free of them. I don’t get to leave, no matter how bad it gets. They are with me until the end.
So what is the point of even trying?
Rey Wright 