That was so two hours ago

I don’t know why I feel the need to keep torturing myself… why be on the verge of losing it all the time… why being so up or so down… I’m punishing myself mentally because I feel I don’t deserve any peace from my past. 

I just finished the evaluation for the recommendation for mental health services. Just the little bit of action and feedback got me to surrender… I’m going to meet with mental health professionals tomorrow morning to get on some medications and start some kind of treatment. 

Its been time for a while… for real. 

Shit goes down the drain.

Expectations 

So yesterday was about expectations and disappointment… sometimes, expectations can feel like hope or faith… I get fooled into that thinking when my expectations work out in my favor… but hope and faith are hope and faith.  Expectations are downright dangerous for me…

In order to avoid the 12 Steps, I met with a recovery coach which is a new tangled concept created in the last few years and in Texas, you can become a certified one. They are not a sponsor nor a therapist… they motivate and guid you while you recover… help you set goals and find support… like a life coach. 

What blew me up yesterday was I know this shit… I know what I need to do on the outside… how to get shit done and how to cross off my list and all of the rational behaviors normal non-addicts do daily.  I’m not a dumb ass.  Arg… anyway, personality issues arose as well and I left super fucking disappointed… sat with him for an hour and a half when I knew 10 minutes in this was not for me… fuck me for not having the balls to just say so… fuck you.

I’m leaving in a few to go line up for help and see about meds… I do not want meds… do not do not do not want to take fucking medication… I don’t like the middle feeling they give me… I hate that I can’t cry… I hate the cloud everything’s alright in my head… 

anyway… who knows what the fuck I’ll be told today… how’s that for a fucking expectation?

The look of no expectations.