Finger on the trigger

We moved in around March 8th. Still not completely settled. I imagine it will be quite a while until I feel like we are *settled.* Bedrooms, kitchen and bathroom are the only functional rooms right now. The living room/dining area however is a completely different story. It is packed nearly halfway to the ceiling! Which isn't that bad considering those first three are pretty much the only essentials in a house anyway. It's just an eyesore, really. I'll go more into detail about the move another time. But this post is about how I've been feeling.
Which is terrible.

I am so triggered. Especially right now. And that is partly why I'm writing- to keep from doing things that I shouldn't. Ever since that first night I slept in my own bed. I thought I would expected to feel relief and excitement. I mean, finally my own room with a door. My own bed just for me. A place to put my things. Privacy! But all I feel is uncomfortable. Anxious. Sad.

Now, this part is going to sound silly because here I am blabbing about parts of my life to random people on the internet... But in REAL LIFE there isn't anyone that I really trust and feel comfortable having these conversations with. Therefore, I have a blog.



So far I've been doing (in my mind) a pretty good job of concealing my negative feelings towards everything.
Putting on a 'happy face' at work is draining.
Putting on a 'happy face' at home is draining.
I feel like someone is bound to get suspicious when I laugh a little too hard or talk a little too loud.
Overcompensating - that's the word!

Not that anyone would care anyway. They'd only brush it off as me having a 'bad attitude' or that I'm exaggerating the situation and making a big deal out of nothing as usual. Besides, what could they do to help me? My entire family (to my knowledge) doesn't believe in therapy, counseling, or medications. Prayer is their thing. And there is nothing wrong with that. I believe that prayer is a powerful thing. But when you continually dismiss how I feel and then send me off with a "oh just pray about it." I feel worse. All I'm hearing is "I can't help you and I don't want to deal with you. Take this nice little sentiment and figure it out yourself." Advice like that doesn't give me any sense of comfort. I feel no love from that at all.


I'm so tired all the time. I go to sleep sore and wake up the same. Although I think that part is just due to the fact that my body is not used to sleeping on an actual bed for more than one or two nights in a row. I've slept on a 3 cushion leather couch for 3 1/2 years until now. So I think physically I'm still adjusting. My appetite keeps disappearing. I tried to eat dinner but ended up throwing half of it away because I just couldn't eat. I've read 5 books last month. Reading has always been such a great distraction for me. Even as all my other go-to's fail me.

At the end of the day I'm on my own. And part of me is afraid. Of myself. And what I might do.
Because I know that I'm not as strong as I'd like to think I am.