One thing I have become very aware of in this relationship, is the stories I tell myself when a trigger happens. This came out of self protection, and out of self preservation as to not be blindsided during conversations with my family. It is hard for me to just talk and share my feelings to another. This comes from not feeling like anything I say is important. My father would not sit and talk to me, the paper was always up between us, or something like that. It is not useful. I don't listen clearly because of it. Some days are easier than others in regards to the stories. Today is not one of those days.
I have been doing pretty good today, was able to rationally deal with my emotions. But this evening not so good, this is because I see things and make up meanings that might not be true. Then I act on those meanings, instead of asking questions. Even just writing this hurts, and makes me feel lost. I hate questioning all this. I hate the stories in my head. I want them gone and I want to feel found.
These stories exhaust me to no end. The overwhelm my emotions and stress me out so that I can't do anything. Living becomes a chore. I hate these stories. I hate making them up. I hate living this way. I want my life, without stories and without being so afraid to live it.
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