It’s weird to be broken on the outside when you’re also broken on the inside. Although I guess I’m not so broken on the outside, that’s still pretty inside too, it’d be pretty easy to believe I’m totally fine. But trust me, broken backs are no joke. I’m a lot tougher than most people give me credit for. Sure, I may whine and complain over a paper cut but when it comes to real pain, like when I’m lying in the sand of the arena exactly where I landed and haven’t moved in over 10 minutes because I couldn’t, I am tough as nails. I didn’t cry until I lost my vision and most of my hearing and even then, I cried more because of fear than pain. At the hospital was a whole different story, I kept being moved around, rolled over, getting into and then out of the CT machine. That had me screaming. A lot. That hurt. That was real pain.

It’s interesting too, because you do find out who your real friends are in situations like that. I am lucky that most of the people I spend time with regularly are all real friends. I’ve had lots of help, lots of visitors, lots of “gifts” to keep me entertained while I sit on the couch or lay in bed for weeks. It hasn’t even been two full weeks yet and I am bored. So that is nice. However, it ties in to that guilt I had mentioned before. I am lucky in a lot of ways, but the funny thing about depression is that it doesn’t matter how lucky you are, it doesn’t change the depression. So I feel guilty for feeling so depressed but there’s nothing I can do about it. And no matter how many TV series or documentaries I watch or books I read, I can’t help but sit and think all the time and I’m going even more crazy than usual.

But I am incredibly grateful that I have reached that blissful state of numbness. I’ve been anxious for this callous to build around my broken heart, so I could stop feeling all the feelings so strongly, and I am so grateful that it’s finally happened. I was able to distance myself from the root of some of my pain and build that wall back up between my feelings and my ability to feel them. That doesn’t stop some of them from slipping through the cracks though. The angry, the bitter, the confused, the heartbroken. The reality check that is the rest of my life. But it’s a nice break from the pain constantly leaking out my tear ducts.

I am more broken on the inside than the outside. My heart, my soul, they just feel shattered into sharp little pieces. I’m nothing but frayed endings and incomplete parts. And what’s even worse is that I still hope for something better. At least kind of. I’m scared to really want anything too much because I’m too scared and it’s too likely that it’ll never happen. But I’d love to be broken in front of someone, on a regular basis, to be with someone who can wrap their arms around me through the worst of it, and god to have someone still want me in my truly fractured state, someone who knows all the unseemly parts of me and isn’t afraid, who doesn’t run away from it. But here comes that reality check; most of them will run away from it. From me.

I’m too afraid to want it that much, if I want it too much, it’s that much harder for me when it doesn’t happen. I’d settle for something smaller. I’d settle for someone just knowing what they need to know and staying. I can do the rest of it alone, I’ve been managing for the most part and I can keep squashing it down, if someone could just stay, with their arms wrapped around me. If someone could face the surface and still find something worth sticking around for. It may not be everything, but my, wouldn’t it be lovely?


I had to stop being stubborn and make a decision that I wish I didn’t have to make but is very much in my best interest. I shouldn’t be the one having to make a change, I am not and never was the problem, but I can’t do it anymore. So I have to move. And that’s stupid, I shouldn’t have to uproot myself, go through all the additional stress of finding a place, move my cats… It’s my stubbornness that has kept me here as long as I have. But I am clearly not respected, I clearly don’t matter, and I can’t be miserable at home. Homebodies cannot hate being home, it doesn’t work. My “landlord” roommate was super sweet and supportive and understanding which is nice, although it also infuriates me because, again, I shouldn’t be the one that leaves. I like it here. Or at least I used to. And I’m really gonna miss my one roommate.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so many feelings. I feel like I’m feeling everything, and it’s too much. I’m feeling too much. It’s like that meme of Woody and Buzz Lightyear with a caption that reads, “feelings, feelings everywhere.” Except this isn’t funny. It’s horrible. I’d kill for apathy. Everything is just too strong, too intense, it’s paralyzing. I cried for most of the day yesterday. I couldn’t control it, I just sat on the couch and cried. And cried.

I’m lonely, if you want to get to the point. I’m really, desperately, disgustingly… lonely. I’d kill for a long hug. I’d kill extra to snuggle up to a man. I know, my happiness should not revolve around anyone but me, blah blah blah. But it is what it fucking is, okay? I know it’ll make me feel better. I’m tired of people telling me that I’m responsible for how I feel and no one can make me feel anything without my permission. Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds to someone battling depression? Do you really think I’m choosing to feel so fucking sad all the time? Don’t you think if I could just “be happy,” I would do that? So I want what works. I want what will make me feel good. I know it’s not the healthiest route to take and I know that it won’t really solve anything, because once the high wears off I’ll be right back where I started. But for a little while, I’ll feel better. I’ve felt unwanted for so long, a feeling made stronger after recent events, so if I get what I want, for a little while, I can feel a tiny bit better.

I haven’t read the book [yet] but I know my love language is touch. I want to touch and I want to be touched. Words of affirmation is up there too, but I have always been more bothered by lack of touch in a relationship. There isn’t much more in this world that I find more pleasant than laying in bed with someone and running my fingers up and down their chest or their back, drawing patterns. And I really, really want them to do the same. So it’s all I want, I want to lay in strong, hairy arms and feels fingertips draw patterns on my back. I want to forget how sad I am, for a little while.

One of the things they don’t tell you about depression is the guilt that can come along with it. I have great people in my life. Friends who will always let me come hang out, who’s doors are always open for me. Friends who will leave work early and drive an hour and half to come hang out with me because I’m having a terrible, weepy day. I even have one wonderful roommate who just gave me a hug because he knows I’m having a hard time. Those things, all of those things, they all mean so much to me. They make me feel warm. But sadly, those warm feelings are fleeting, they slip away all too quickly. Those great moments with great friends aren’t good enough, they don’t fix me. And that makes me feel so guilty, and selfish. I’m having a hard time being there for anyone else, I’m having a hard time getting out of my head.

I’d kill for numbness. Apathy. For time to pass more quickly. For that snuggle. I want so badly to feel better but I don’t know how to do it. All I can do is sit on the couch. And cry.

Mixed Media


Well… I didn’t keep my mouth shut. Do I ever? I’m not sure it’s better or worse, but I like getting it off my chest. I’m still anxious and miserable, but I’m not battling with myself anymore about why I shouldn’t bother. It’s done, nothing I can do about it now. Although I do realize it was dumb and not actually worth it.

I’m not entirely satisfied with the answers I got but at least I did get some. I also got to make sure someone knew they shared responsibility. I feel like I stood up for myself and I am happy about that. I am also happy that I made them feel bad. They should feel bad.

I have my therapy appointment tonight. I can’t believe this is what my life has come to. I still struggle to wrap my head around how much crazy has seeped through the cracks. I’ve had such a strong will for so long. I feel so weak all of a sudden.

I don’t know where to start with her. It’s going to be a shit show no matter what. I imagine there will be a lot of crying. Either that or I’ll seem like a total bitch. Because I’m feeling a little bitchy. I’m so nervous! I just hope it goes well. I really, really need this to go well…

Leaving Unsaid Unspoken

I’m not very good at keeping my mouth shut. I always have so much that I want to say and I’m amazed at how much I’m actually able to keep in. Especially when you consider what actually comes out of my mouth. Who would have thought I was really holding back, right?

But the problem is that I want to say everything. I want SO DAMN BADLY to say EVERYTHING. When I don’t get it out, I just feel anxious and flustered and like I’m going to explode. I’m hoping typing it out will help but I’m not so sure.

Because I want to say that I hate you for what you did to me. I hate that you gave me exactly what I wanted and then took it away. And I want to know why you thought it was okay. I want to know why you didn’t consider talking to me about it on one of the many times it came up, when we were sitting right there staring at each other and talking about it. You didn’t say anything! You didn’t even respect me enough to tell me, you just went on about your business like I was never a thing, I never even got a passing thought that like, I don’t know, maybe you should keep me in the loop. I want to know why I didn’t matter enough to you to warrant a conversation. I want to know why you didn’t think I was good enough. I want to know what’s going through your mind when you flaunt your bullshit in front of me all the time. Do you feel guilty? Are you doing it to prove a point? To make yourself feel better? Or are you really that much of an inconsiderate asshole?

I also hate that I miss you. I hate that we had so much fun and I enjoyed myself so thoroughly and now I’m just not. My life went from everything going surprisingly well, I was so happy with what was happening in my life, to being really, really shitty. Just like that. And I hate that you had so much of an effect. I hate that I’m not getting what I want anymore, I hate that you decided you knew how I felt better than I did. I hate that you took my happiness away from me and I hate that you were a big part of that happiness.

Because the thing is, none of this means what everyone would think it means. People, you included, will think you know how I’m feeling but the thing is, you don’t have a clue. You have no idea what is going through my head, you have no idea what my intentions are or were. You don’t know anything.

It just blows my mind how quickly things can change. There’s a Nickelback song [shut up, I like them and I’m not ashamed] about feeling too damn good, because when you feel too good, things are bound to go wrong. It’s so emo but whatever, that’s my life at the moment. And it’s true, things can never go too well without shit hitting the fan. And when it rains, it pours. Another incredibly accurate cliche, because my life isn’t just emo, it’s also a cliche.

Ugh. I don’t know I’m hoping trying to write things out will help. I have my doubts but it was worth a shot, right? Not everything needs to be said out loud. Right?


I took a really long shower this morning. And by “shower,” what I really mean is I sat down in the shower, knees pulled up to my chin, crying, for a very long time. I feel so broken. I feel myself getting more and more desperate to feel better. All I want is to feel better and I find myself thinking I would do anything to feel better. I’m grasping at straws, clinging to anything that might help me feel better for just a little bit. And I am terrified.

I’m also starting to hate myself and I don’t know how to deal with that. I hate myself because people affect me so much. They always say no one can hurt your feelings or make you feel insignificant without your permission. Quite frankly, I call bullshit. I don’t know anyone who can just not be hurt by the things people say and how people treat them. I hate when people act like I don’t matter, and I don’t know how to not take that personally. If someone is gonna treat me like shit on their shoe, someone that I thought cared about me in at least a small way that the average person should care about another person they are “intimate” with, how am I not supposed to be hurt and offended and angry? When someone doesn’t even respect me enough to extend common courtesy, to just flaunt their bullshit in front of me without any thought to my feelings whatsoever, how am I supposed to not be upset?

So I feel hurt. I feel insignificant and worthless and like I don’t fucking matter. To anyone. I feel like I don’t deserve anyone’s respect. Because no matter how much I think I’m standing up for myself, apparently I’m not, so clearly, I am not worthy of anyone’s respect. I feel under-valued and unappreciated, and I don’t know how to make anyone see my worth. Reason would suggest that the only people worth having in my life are the ones who just realized it, but where does reason actually fit into life? Since when are things fair or reasonable or make any sense at all?

I wish I had the ability to say everything I need to say. I hate unfinished business, and I really hate when people get to think they won when they didn’t. I hate when people walk around like they aren’t giant douchebags. I think they should know that they’re a piece of shit. They should know that they hurt someone and it isn’t okay. People shouldn’t get to walk by me every day like they didn’t treat me like crap, like I’m the one being crazy and unreasonable for calling them out on their shit. Quite frankly, no one else is gonna stick up for me, so I have to at least act like I care enough about myself to stick up for myself, so I won’t lay down and take it. I don’t have it in me to go whimpering off to lick my wounds, which is one of the very few things I do like about myself right now.

I also wish I had learned by now to really keep my distance. I try so hard not to let anyone get that close to me. I don’t ever want someone to see my vulnerable, to see me weak. I don’t want people to see my at my worst because all they are going to do is judge me for it. How do I know that? Because everyone who has ever seen me at my worse has held it against me. Heaven forbid I ever have a moment of weakness and I just want some comfort. It’s not like I’m ever unclear about what I want or what I’m looking for. I’m no mystery. I don’t even ask for much. I ask for very little. And during all this, I try to keep everyone at arm’s length. I don’t want anyone near my heart. I don’t want to ever let someone close enough to hurt me, but somehow they always slip through the cracks. I am weak. I have a softness I can’t seem to harden. A softness that lets me see the great and wonderful things in someone. The things that I enjoy, that I find endearing, things that I use to learn about someone, to get to know them. And then I start to care and I just enjoy what’s happening. It seldom means that I want more from the situation, it just means that I am finding them more enjoyable to be around and that I’d like to be around them. This just bites me in the ass because it always translates somehow that I want more, that I’m asking too much. But I’m not. Can’t I just like someone? Can’t I just like being around them? I’m so honest all the time, can’t you just trust me to be honest about what it means? So while many would argue that this softness is somehow a good thing, to remain soft in a harsh world, it is truly a terrible thing. It hurts me, it causes me pain, it gives me no escape from the constant torment of having so. Many. Feelings.

I am also getting reckless. I don’t care about work, I’m getting lazy and I don’t care. Or I guess more accurately, I work very hard to avoid doing the work I don’t want to do. I don’t want to be around people. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to deal with it. I’m also trying out retail therapy, I’m buying things I can’t actually afford, consequences be damned, because I’m desperate to feel just a little bit better. And the new shirt makes me feel better, even if only for an hour. It’s an hour while I don’t feel like I need to cry. An hour free of the hopelessness. I know I sound like an emo teenager but I feel like an emo teenager. And trust me, realizing I sound like a whiny, mopey teenager doesn’t help anything.

As I said, I’m getting desperate. Desperate for anything that will help. I ache for numbness. Or for someone who can actually comfort me. I yearn for a cuddle, for someone to hold me for an hour, who will let me just cry and be weak and just… let me be. I want to feel like I matter, even if just briefly. I’ve been dealing with so much, I have this very intense fear that no man will ever touch me or want me again and I have a pretty legit reason to feel this way, and I want so desperately to be wrong. There’s a lot of desperate.

One Year

It is slowly creeping up on one year. One year without my love. One year without my heart. One year since my world stopped turning.

I remember what it felt like getting the first text that Ricci had hurt herself. It was late Friday night, I was housesitting out of town, it was my last night there but there was no way I could get there. But I knew something was wrong. I was in a panic all night, tossing and turning all night, I didn’t get any sleep. I was so nauseous by the time I had to get up for work, I had to puke. I got through a couple hours of work before my boss let me go early so I could get to the barn.

The vet was called and we thought she was fine, but then the next day… we all know that story.

So when I was asked if I could housesit at the same place again at the very same time this year, I didn’t know what to say. I housesit for this friend all the time, I know they rely on me and it’s some extra cash. So at first I said sure, but I had to text her this morning and say I’m sorry, I can’t do it. I almost let myself feel weak for that but I stopped myself. This is not weakness. Ricci was… everything. It isn’t anywhere near enough time for me to be over her loss, I don’t think any amount of time will. I already asked for the day off so I can just lay around and drink all day.

It’s still so hard to not have her here. It’s hard when what used to be everything you ran to when you were sad or stressed or angry isn’t around anymore. Ricci was my therapy. Just a few minutes at the barn enjoying her company was enough to give me the highest high. I sat and watched her for hours sometimes, letting my heart settle into a blissful rhythm, crying until I couldn’t cry anymore, ranting and raving when I was angry, or dancing around the barn, singing loudly and obnoxiously to the music on my iPod while she looked at me like I was a fool.

She was just the greatest. The most wonderful creation to have every been put on this planet. I’ll never stop missing her.


I finally made an appointment to see a therapist. I don’t know how I’m going to do this because apparently insurance still thinks mental health and mental illness is a crock so won’t cover it, and it’s like, $90 a session. I have too much crazy for a single 50-minute session!

But anyways, I make the appointment, and apparently everything is done through technology nowadays. I don’t like that. I don’t like making appointments online because I am worried it will be missed or won’t go through. I would so much rather be talking to an actual person that is like, “yes, you have made your appointment.”

So there’s all this questionnaire stuff that I have to answer and some of the questions are really weird to me. I was asked to describe my relationship with food. I get it, some people have an unhealthy relationship with food. I don’t eat everything, I don’t have a weird relationship with food. I have a slightly over-appreciative relationship with it but I just enjoy eating good food. And then I was asked if I experienced anxiety. Yes, I experience anxiety. Please describe. …Um… I get anxious? I answered the question, I described what seems to cause it, but I felt like I needed a little more of a question. I was also asked what I will be doing differently in my life when therapy is successful. What kind of question is that? I don’t fucking know. Be happy?

So the appointment is next Monday and I don’t even know where I’m going to start. I know where everything stems from. I know how my past affects my day-to-day life. But I also have more recent shit that I want to deal with now. I learned how to deal with my daddy issues, I’m not happy and I can’t continue the way I am, but I know how to cope with it. What I haven’t learned how to cope with is the new shit. I want to start in the now. I need to know what to do about what’s happening to me now. However, I feel like the reaction the therapist will have is to deal with the root of the issue, which I agree with in theory, I really do. I’ve trained enough horses to get it. But I want a band-aid first!

I’m really nervous. I’m excited but I’m nervous. And anxious, of course. It’s been a long time since I went to therapy. I was an angsty teenager in 10th grade. Although it’s not like I’m new to spilling my guts to random strangers, this is a public blog. But I don’t know. I don’t want to hear something I don’t want to hear. I don’t know what I want to hear though… I guess I want to feel validated. Isn’t that what everyone wants?

The One That Gets Away

I don’t write enough. That needs to change.

I’ve thought a lot about “The One” and “Mr. Right” and “The One That Got Away” over the last few years. I wonder how true it is. I wonder if my thoughts on the matter will change as I grow older. Surely it will, it’s not like I’m knocking on heaven’s door. Right?

It’s been years. Actual years. But I’ve never been able to shake him. This isn’t my first post about him and I doubt it will be my last. I’m out somewhere having a great time and I find myself wishing he was there to share it with me. I see something and think how much he’d enjoy it or laugh at it. I’m feeling sick and I wish he were there to help me. I’m depressed and I wish he was there to cuddle with me while watching ridiculous, weird movies. I’ll be sitting there daydreaming about him just showing up at my door or at work and I wish it would come true.

I just know, deep down, that if he were simply sharing my life with me, I’d feel better. And not always in that, “I’m sad and he’ll make me feel better,” way. In that, “This is so fun and it would be even MORE fun if he were here, he would enjoy this so much!” He’s everywhere. And I liked myself so much when he was a part of my life. I felt like I had myself figured out, I learned about myself and I changed and found ways that I wanted to be better.

I wish we had found each other later. I think things would have been different if we weren’t so young when we met. We would have been more mature, healthier, we wouldn’t have destroyed each other like we did. So I have to wonder if we will “find each other” again later. When we are more mature, when we are healthier people. But I can’t count on that, so I have to keep on keepin’ on and just… see. I’m tired of “just seeing.”

Whenever I think about my future, my husband-house-kids future, I see stability. I see familiarity and partnership and hopefully adorable children. I see myself happy. I honestly do see that. What I don’t see is head over heels love. I don’t see being in love. I don’t see passion. I don’t see that connection I had with him. I don’t expect that. I don’t think I need that to be happy, I think I can be perfectly content without it, but it isn’t really pleasant to think about. Especially because I had that.

But then I remind myself that I am just shy of my 26th birthday, not my 86th. I have forever. Forever and ever to fall in love again. Really truly in love. I saw a post on Word Porn [a Facebook page everyone should “like,” by the way] that said something along the lines of, “Give a big round of applause for your second love, because they taught you love still exists after you thought it never could again.” I’m ready for that second love.

That brings up so much other stuff though. I am honestly, truly, NOT interested in a relationship right now. I don’t want a boyfriend, I don’t want someone all over me, I don’t want to let anyone close to me. Part of that, hell almost all of that, is because the one who got away also managed to destroy so much of my ability to trust in anyone else. To let someone else close to me is like… *shudders* I just don’t want that. But I sure as hell can’t find that second love without like… dating. And dating is a most horrid form of torture. Not to mention a recent, unfortunate diagnosis that affects everything and completely changes the game. None of this sounds like anything I want to do. I really want it to just… happen, you know? I don’t want to have to work for it, I want to stumble into love. I want to be surprised by it. I want it to happen in such a way that it just occurs to me one day that, holy shit, this is it, huh?

But there’s still a small part of me that thinks I already had it, and a bigger part that wants me to get that one back.

The Trouble with Friends.

This is a difficult post to write. It’s easy to bare your soul when you are talking about your beloved horse that passed but talking about the people in your life, how you relate to them, how they make you feel… that’s a difficult thing to put out there.

It may seem weird but I really miss being a loner. I miss rarely leaving the house. Staying at home with my cats, watching movies and binge-watching on Netflix. And going to bed early. Once you start throwing in all these relationships with various people, things get complicated. As it should be, I guess, feelings are a complicated issue.

Most of my issues stem from my relationship with my father. Wait, another girl with daddy issues?! Yup. But I never felt good enough growing up. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. Even as an adult, nothing I do has ever been good enough. Bought a car by myself? I should have contacted him because I could have gotten a better deal. Tsk tsk Leigha. And that’s not even going into the conversation we had when I was set to start orthodontics and I already had glasses. Better get me some contacts, no daughter of mine can walk around with braces AND glasses! And this barely even scratches the surface of that particular relationship. So I’ve always felt like I was lacking.

But all my relationships since then have left me with that same feeling. I just can’t win. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had left me for another girl. I can’t even keep a fuck buddy around who doesn’t eventually end things because they’d rather sleep with some other chick. The only man that I honestly, truly loved broke things off with me because he wanted to sleep around and he had feelings for someone else. It happens once or twice and you’re sad but you move on. But more than a dozen times? It’s hard to not take that personally. It’s hard to stop feeling like there isn’t something about you that is just plum wrong and unlikable.

I can’t even say that my current relationship is helping. We’ve been together almost a year. He just told me about the Christmas gift he got for me in Japan where he is on deployment. These things should normally make a woman happy, at least a little bit. But I just find it all incredibly depressing. We are one week shy of our one year anniversary and he doesn’t want me to tell him that I love him. He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t know if we are going to work out long term or not. He wants me to be carefree and to have fun and we’ll just see what happens when he’s home in two months. Easier said than done, my friend. He’s been gone five months and I miss him like crazy but I’m so depressed about the whole thing. The obvious and perhaps easiest answer is to break up with him, and I’d agree with you but I just… can’t. I want it to work out with him, I want to be with him, I don’t want to regret breaking up with my boyfriend while he’s deployed because I don’t know what is going to happen when he comes home.

But this is a post about friends and I’m talking about my boyfriend. So back on track. I have a very good friend that doesn’t live in the same town. I am always the one who drives to see her. I set up the plans, I make the effort, I’m the one doing it. I love her, I enjoy seeing her but it gets kinda old feeling like I’m the only one trying to keep the friendship alive. How much does she really consider me a friend when she never makes any plans to see me and won’t make any effort?

And then I have a couple friends. I love them, they are wonderful women, but they so obviously like the other more than they like me. I know how weird it is to see it that way, it sounds conceited and silly but I don’t mean it that way. I’m not jealous, that’s not the issue. I just feel left out. The third wheel, the one tagging along to their adventures, not included in the inside jokes. It’s heartbreaking. And I’ve thought about bringing it up to them, that I feel a little like an outsider, but what good will it really do me? They aren’t deliberating shutting me out, they’ll tell me they’re sorry and it’s not true and they’ll make an effort for the next week to make sure I feel included but then it will just go back to normal. Because they like the other more than they like me and life just happens that way. But why am I always the one everyone likes least?

I feel myself withdrawing into myself, reverting back to being the loner who doesn’t go out, who doesn’t make but the rare plans to hang out with people. The girl who’s boring and stays at home and is asleep by 10pm. But why does it matter when I’m not really included even when I’m trying to put myself out there? I still end up sitting at home alone except now I’m more sad. If I’m the one who decides to stay home, it’s not as depressing as staying home because I wasn’t invited.

I don’t mean to sound so pathetic and I know that’s exactly what people will think when they read this. I hate feeling pathetic, I don’t mean to be the weepy girl crying about why doesn’t anyone like me. But… why don’t people like me? What am I doing wrong? Why do I have such a hard time finding someone who likes me as much as I like them? And that’s all I want in life, really. I just want someone, anyone, to like me as much as I like them.


I’m struggling. I don’t even know where to begin because I feel like I’m spiraling out of control. I didn’t even feel this out of control when I was 22 and on a birth control pill that was not working for me. I can barely sleep and all I want to do is cry and eat and drink. I want to drink a lot.

A lot of the pain is me not being over Ricci’s loss. I’m not over that at all. I miss her, I miss having something that made me feel whole when I was feeling broken. Ricci was there through all my big relationships, through all the break ups and the broken hearts and the anger and the depression. Ricci was always perfect, she got me through everything. But she’s not here to get me through this, the most difficult and gutting thing I’ve ever dealt with and I’m reeling without her steady soul to ground me.

Part of it is also that whole pesky being a woman thing. I’m happy to be not pregnant and all but I feel like Mother Nature is kicking me when I’m already down.

And my relationship situation is… difficult and I’m battling with a lot of insecurities. I am just so burnt out from feeling like I care more. And I hate myself for thinking this way but I feel like something is clearly wrong with me. Why else can’t I find a man who cares about me as much as I care about him? Why am I never good enough? No matter what I do, I never feel good enough. I always end up feeling convenient, I’m around because he likes that I like him, I treat him well, I’m nice to him, I boost his ego. But I seldom feel like they actually like me, like they care or that I have any real value in their life. I have been taking on this “fake it til you make it” attitude for so long now, people have told me that I’m so confident and they wish they could have that but the sad truth is I have very little confidence. I have many, many days were I feel worthless and as much as friends tell you that you’re awesome, what the hell am I supposed to do with that? And the worst part is that I hate myself for letting a man, any man, affect how I feel about myself. I don’t want to be that cliche woman who needs a man to validate her and her feelings and her worth but I am that woman. I don’t want to be but I don’t know how to overcome that. I’ve been trying and for awhile I felt like I was doing okay but lately… I’m losing ground. I have never felt so low, I have never felt more expendable and invaluable than I do now. And I don’t know how to feel better. And all I want is my horse and to feel better.