Wow, what I say to myself really matters. My last post talked about how I told myself to shut the eff up and I did! I really just shut up and quite literally shut down my writing. The words did not come.
I’ve spent this PMDD holding feelings of dis-ease inside of my chest. I found myself pushing through the corridors of life. Like the dark little side streets of Philly, I felt sad and alone longing for a hand to hold. I wanted a gift of hope. I wanted a light at the bend of the corner not darkness and more despair. I was feeling antsy and wanted something to be excited about.
I couldn’t help thinking that there is a problem with me, but the real matter is this illness. PMDD has had me disagreeable for the most part of my life. I must realize the incredible lesson of the truth of self-sabotage. Telling myself to shut up. Shutting down my feelings felt great at first, finally there was silence. However a kinder gentler voice is a more effective approach if I want to consider nourishing my spirit and continuing to carry the message of hope and self-care.
Despite on a sliding scale, the good that I have done for myself I can’t help to wonder how much of this feeling is actually #PMDD or if I am over the mundane talk about “feelings” of being stuck “feelings” of inadequacy and am more interested in exploring feelings with my new sense of self, liberated and pushing through. Perhaps the hand to hold is my own.