I have insecurities. I fight them with all I have, but I don’t always win. I fight them with the words he says. I fight them with the look in his eyes. I fight them with the tenderness of his touch. I fight them with the passion of his love. I go into battle, but don’t always come out victorious.
Some days I feel crazy. I feel like there are two people inside my head. One is saying “what if” and the other is saying “there is no what if”. One is angry and violent, confident and sure. The other is sad and anxious, unsure and vulnerable. My outward self is something else entirely. That side of me is a mixture. She’s confident and anxious, happy and honest. I try to let the outer bleed into the inner, but it doesn’t always work.
It’s amazing the physical toll a purely mental battle can take. After yesterday’s battle I just felt tired and weak. I didn’t even want to eat the lunch I had heated up 30 minutes before. I forced myself to eat close to half before dumping the rest. I just wanted to go huddle in a dark corner and become invisible. I wanted to be held. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch the walls. I wanted to sleep.
Maybe one day I won’t have to fight these battles, but I’m still too weak to see when they day might be. I feel so many emotions in the battle and although I feel I’m fighting hard, I’m always left in the midst of destruction. Tired and bruised I lay amongst the rubble. Maybe the next battle won’t be so bad.