So, sometimes everything just becomes too much and I can't stuff it in anymore and the tears have to come out. Even at work. A fetal position sitting against my door on the floor, staring out the window, sobbing. I remembered when I used to have to slam my arm or head against the wall to stop the internal pain enough to survive. I thought about it, but didn't need it, and am so happy I didn't need it. But just being faced with truth and daily difficult decisions popped me over the edge. Lack of sleep doesn't help either. My husband withdrawing doesn't help either, though that was one of the central issues. Me not knowing if I'm still working on this because I'm afraid of failure, or don't hold my needs in high enough esteem, or there really is some hope. Fears and hopes and anger and needs pushing on me from all around and squeezing me into the crumpled ball.
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