This is what happens . . .
First, the accident or the incident, whichever the case may be, then comes the response, followed by the afterthought and the things we wished we said. Has this ever happen to you?
Ever have something occur and then you walk away wishing you said something else?
You wished you came out on top in a conversation, yet instead, you felt vulnerable or foolish, is if someone was able to pull a fast one right before your eyes—and you just stood there and let this happen.
I wanted to explain this to you in a different way. My hope is this will bring you some comfort during the upcoming days,
I am writing this to you to bring a little understanding about depressive thinking and the unending cycle that comes with it.
I wanted to reach out to you specifically to explain a bit more about me so that maybe you will understand a bit more about you and the things you’ve faced in your past.
First and foremost, please allow me to officially explain that you are far from alone. There are millions of us out there, lost, unsure, uncomfortable, and unable to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Before going forward, please understand that I make no assumptions about you or your pain; however, I am offering this explanation to make sense of one of the most senseless kind of deaths known to man,
Back when I was a kid, I had to go to the dentist to have a cavity filled. I was scared. I knew there was a needle involved—and I was petrified of needles. I mean really petrified, as in, run away petrified, and catch me if you can petrified.
I was petrified of the whole scene. But of course, the dentist says the needle won’t hurt. They all say the same thing. “It’s just pressure,” they always say. “This won’t hurt.” But I knew this was a lie. It’s a needle. Needles hurt.
Before going forward, I will openly expose me to explain why I behaved the way I did to gain a better understanding, which may seem obvious, but who knows, maybe this will help someone gain a new perspective.
When I was young, I believed since there was nothing interesting about my life, I chose to create a new identity to make myself seem more appealing.
We were all kids at the time. We were just a bunch of kids living in a small town, no better or worse than anyplace else. We were the middle class.We were the average (at best.) We thought we knew what we were talking about. We thought we knew what we were doing. Then again, so does every kid.
yesterday is gone. We don’t live there anymore. Everybody knows this. But the
remnants of yesterday will often overstay their welcome.
And you want to let go
You want to move on.
One day I decided that I did not want to be held hostage anymore. It came to a decision, which I knew I had to stick with.
I was tired of the anxiety attacks. I was tired of the social anxiousness and tired of being afraid of people, places, and things.
I was tired of living “Rejection sensitive,” and feeling leashed or slaved to thoughts and feelings that had the ability to spiral me out of control.