Chicken Shit

Because I don’t have the balls to post every excruciating detail that flashed through my mind last night. Leaving me balling on my bed, hoping it’d stop, and wanting to know what happened at the same time. I had fully blocked every bit of the pain. I remember it clearly now. I remember my thoughts as it happened.

I’d like to know if its wise. If I should share those thoughts, my story. The actual event. Is that too intense?
I can’t handle much myself right now, everything is upsetting me or making me need to confess to my awful past. I can’t eat, anything. I made 3 pieces of bacon this morning, eating almost one. And gagging at the last bite. Food is not doing well for me. I can’t keep it down.
My AMAZING friends are encouraging me to talk to someone. And, at this point. I should. I want to. If I need my friends to text me each morning or mid day to ask if I’ve eaten yet, that’s not a good sign. Since when they do. I haven’t. 😦

I’m going to see someone. Soon. I’ve already taken my first step and reached out to a few therapists. And once I’ve got the cash, and my paperwork in hand, I’ll walk in and start my process.

For now, I’ll leave it at that. And I’ll post my story when I feel I can bare to say those words aloud once more. When I can truly admit to myself what happened to me a few years ago.


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