Same Old Same Old

When the adrenaline leaves the system all that is left is self pity.

Well, I did something utterly out of character for me this week - I talked to a stranger about how I've been feeling & the general goings on that cause me feeling grim. When I say stranger I mean my course tutor. Usally its my long suffering friends & housemates get to hear me whinge about my life. It was a strange sensation it was in equal parts liberating, guilt inducing & terrifying. 

It was terrifying as I hate admitting weakness due to me being a haughty buggar at times. Plus who really likes making themselves vulnerable to others?  It was liberating because it was good to kind of get some of what has been mulling over in my brain out in the open - especially to someone who doesn't know anyone involved.  But whilst I was venting my spleen a huge sense of guilt started to sweep over me.

I always feel that talking about my problems to 'outsiders' is some kind of betrayal to those involved. Not sure why I feel this, maybe its my healthy sense of Catholic guilt I was raised with, but I always have.  I didn't really talk to teachers or my uni lecturers even when I suspect I really should have & even then perhaps when it was too late.

My tutor suggested counselling - another thing that terrifies me as I don't know what to expect.  I went to once before about 5-6 years ago when I felt like I was losing my mind (night terrors, hallucinations & mood swings. You know the usual). So I know they're not going to sacrifice me to some dark god & to be honest it helped even if I felt like a tit some weeks admitting to a stranger I almost wet myself because I was convinced somthing was under my bed & I couldn't put my feet on the floor to go to the bathroom.  However, I feel like I might be sliding back there. I know I have been waking up in the night screaming like a baby more often these past few weeks.  Who knows? I am due to make an appointment for this week so let's wait & see what the professionals say.

Or perhaps this is all stress & they'll tell me I'm being a fucking pussy which let's be fair is more likely. 


(My tutor btw was a fucking saint)