One good thing right now is, work matters have settled down.
But now that I have job security I’ve plummeted back to my everyday anxieties, insecurities and obsessing about all the things I need to change about myself.
I was recently complimented because of how well I “look after myself”.
This was in reaction to how my weekends this month are booked up at various salons for treatments like Botox, Fillers, nail extensions, eyebrow microblading, hair cut and colour, etc.
Was it a complement or a dig? It doesn’t matter because it was triggering all the same.
Triggered because I know myself that what I’m doing and what is driving me right now is really fucking unhealthy.
People see a version of me that has her shit together – and why wouldn’t they I suppose.
I struggle with everyday conversations with people that have no clue what’s really going on with me.
People make small talk and I’m trying to respond appropriately, find the right words, facial expressions and tone of voice to hide the fact that IM FUCKING SCREAMING INSIDE.
Life is easier if I don’t have to engage in small talk. Especially not in work.
I’m sat here at work in the lunch room now.
I’m trying to avoid eye contact with people, hoping they leave me alone so I can finish eating my microwave meal in peace.
Leave me to my thoughts and miseries thank you very much.
Thoughts like, why is my head spinning? Oh yeah, I’m chronically dehydrated and my cortisol levels are through the fucking roof.
Don’t speak to me, don’t ask me questions.
Stop reminding me of the fact that I’m not okay.
Stop making me lie about how I’m focusing on the wrong things and I’m not actually looking after myself.
Stop making me gloss over the fact that what I am doing isn’t self-care, because I’m driven by persistent feelings of shame and self-loathing.
You don’t want to hear me say that I think I’m ugly and I hate what I see in the mirror.
You don’t want me to get dark and morbid about how I want to erase the old me and start again.
What if I told you that I’m getting Botox because I feel empty and worthless?
What if I said actually, I wish I never existed and I’ve found a way to make that happen without taking my own life?
Looking after myself, my arse.