My intensity–in anger and enthusiasm–has scared me (and others I think).
In other moments, I feel like there is nothing wrong with me; I’ve been making it all up and being a drama queen. When I am strong enough to embody that, I feel guilty for receiving the support I am receiving, like I don’t really warrant or deserve it, and there are so many others who need it. I feel like a fraud.
Then I have nights like tonight when I see why I am here. I am fragile like a leaf on the highway. Interactions with others in my life have brought up such intense feelings of rejection and abandonment that I feel unable to sustain my relationships with them. I have awoke in this state at 3o’clock in the morning crying (and breathing deeply). I may have to miss some engagements tomorrow.
I feel like I can’t be seen by non-recovery people, or those who don’t know my story. They are Outsiders. I don’t like this feeling of hiding what is going on for me–something I did around everyone before I attempted to end my life. I promised myself since then that I wasn’t going to do that anymore, that I couldn’t do that any more, that it was a matter of life and death.
I don’t have my skin on around the Outsiders, and I feel way too vulnerable to be with them. It’s like I have no skin and the air is filled with tiny knives that pierce my fascia.
I am a child’s heart isolated and abandoned at times by my intellect.