loathsome
A lot of times, I feel as though I waste my time or that I am a waste of time.
“Why am I not doing that? Why did I do this when I could have done that?”
I could be a better father.
I could be a better husband.
Because I could be better means that I am not good enough.
If I could be better, I should be better; If I should be better and I am not, then I’m screwing up.
I feel insufficient and insecure.
I project that onto my loved ones, probably not as much as I think…but I do.
I yell, but not as much as I used to.
I get angry at my son, and that makes me feel guilty.
He’s autistic and sometimes I don’t give him enough slack.
He yells, I yell back.
I ask him to do something, and he yells at me and/or calls me names…more often than not I take it personally.
I feel weak.
When I read or work, I feel guilty. (I don’t work that much; it’s been slow.)
When I am tired, it is not always obvious to me that I need to go to bed.
I’ll watch a movie or research.
I have felt apathetic a lot lately, almost to the point where I need to remind myself to breathe.
I feel sad a lot.
I am on anti-anxiety medication and am in therapy.
I went from seeing my therapist from once a moth to once a week because I told psychiatrist about my apathy.
I lash out at my wife with sarcasm.
I have also opened up to her and stopped holding her responsible for our lack of communication…
I’m just communicating.
I have been listening to death/dark metal a lot.
I have also been listening to classical music.
Techno or electro rock, too.
I listen to anything that is loud and repetitious or sporadic and chaotic.
I make intermittent and random noises sometimes when things make me uncomfortable and awkward, such as thoughts or memories.
I love to watch horror movies if I am angry.
Sometimes I shut out my kids and my wife. Sometimes I run to them.
Sometimes I want to run away from myself.
Today, I told my wife that I don’t feel happiness like normal people.
I have been spontaneously crying at nothing a lot lately.
Sometimes, I am afraid to go outside or come into contact with anyone.
I indignantly point out to myself what other people are doing wrong.
I am scared of pretty much everything and everyone.
I hate talking on the phone to people.
Large crowds make me nervous.
One day, I am so happy that nothing can go wrong,
The next, I’ll shit on your doorstep for looking at me.
Talk to me.