I can’t remember the last time I’ve needed to cut this bad.
I’ve locked myself in the bathroom.
Restorative yoga and I have a love-hate relationship. I love it because it makes things so much better sometimes. It makes me feel present and grounded, and physically and mentally ok when I’m anxious. Other times I hate it because things come up. Tonight, I loved 90% of my restorative class. The other 10%, I hated. I hated that I had new memories…memories I’ve never had before of him hurting me when I was little – 7 maybe…it’s hard to find the age.
I walked out of yoga to a text from my friend that I had conflict with yesterday. She never reads my blogs, but I guess she read that post. I tried to talk to my husband about it to find out how I could make the situation better, but he of course didn’t want to talk to me on the phone.
I got home to dinner ready and a toddler refusing to eat. I started plating my food, but my husband just sat in the living room, making no attempt of coming into the kitchen to eat. We got into an arguement and I made a comment about how I can’t do anything right. He agreed with me and then made a sarcastic comment how, “I’m so glad you went to yoga to calm down.” That was it. That was the tipping point to a horrible 30 minutes.
He just came upstairs, not to see if I was ok, but to continue yelling at me about how I’m being a bitch.
I literally do nothing right. I don’t even know why I try to have healthy relationships with anyone. I fail miserably at them. And right now I’m also failing at controlling my emotions, coping with stress, and preventing dissociation. I hate everything about who I am. I can’t even cling to “my life had meaning,” because when you look at it, it never really did.