I wrapped my fear around me like a blanket, I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it

But I definitely haven't been closer to fine for the last few days.

I started to wrap a cloak of depression around me. Home with no space of my own, teenage niece with the television on all the time, all this stuff I need to do, being mostly not out because my family doesn't know yet, working at a job that is not fun anymore and leaving my little one behind for two weeks - all of those things are factors.

I've been crying a lot. More than is healthy. And I tell myself, well, hey, at least I'm feeling. I'm not numb. That's something.

But fear, fear is always behind my negative thoughts.

I don't have to come out to my family right now. I get to choose the time. But not telling them is slowly killing me. There's a great big secret that I'm keeping, and I feel like every time I'm around them, I can't be myself, I can't tell them the things that are important about my life. N and I are not together anymore and they don't know yet. I need to tell them, I need to get this out because I want to move ahead with my life and I'm stuck in one place until I can tell them.

And why am I scared? Well, there is a fear of losing them, or at least being cut off temporarily (the cut off I refer to here is emotional because my family is pretty darn good at not talking about things, at glossing over the unpleasantness that they feel. Some of them, anyways)> and the actual telling of it. What do I say? When is a good time to sit down and have a nice little chat like that? And I love to put unpleasant things off until they disappear.

This won't disappear. But as long as I'm not open, I feel like I'm ashamed of who I am, that there's something to be embarrassed about. When there isn't. And if I'm truly proud of who I am, why am I not shouting it from the rooftops, instead of merely whispering it to friends that I already know will understand? I'm not a rooftop shouting kind of person, and I've always kept certain things contained.

I promised myself I wouldn't do that any more.

And then I start thinking about this whole socializing thing. I really don't know many people in the city where I live, and I really should get out more and meet people...except the mere thought of doing that, or anything approaching socializing with people that I don't know is enough to send me straight back into the turtle shell I build for myself when i was fifteen.

I actually feel like I'm fifteen years old a lot of the time. With the same anxieties and insecurities that I never really resolved when I was fifteen. I just ran and hid from everyone. I know that being around adults is (not very often) not like being a teenager at all. No one is going to judge me based on my appearance, and if they do, what should I care anymore? I'm not fifteen, remember.

Except that I am, and when I even think about having to talk to people that I don't know, or heaven forbid, going into a situation where I know absolutely no one I feel like I'm about to freeze. My throat starts to close up and I get that awful choking feeling I used to get when life was just too much for me and I wanted out. Out.

Here's the silliest thing about these fears. I drove myself all the way to Michigan, walked into a place where I knew no one at all, and went home feeling strong, loved, and valuable. So how is that experience different from others I might have?


I had a dream the other night, and in my dream I was wearing a backpack. it was extremely uncomfortable and I refused to take it off. I wore it everywhere. And I had some friends with me that I kept leaving behind. I kept forgetting that they were even with me, and I'd take off without them.

That's not an obvious message at all. I don't need the defenses anymore. Instead of protecting me from whatever threatened me when I was fifteen, they are hurting me. But I keep them around, just in case I need them, just in case some day I have to validate my insecurities by saying "See. I knew all along that I was unlovable."

I fear that most of all. That underneath this skin, there really is nothing of substance to love.

I was so excited the other day when I found out that Amy Ray is coming to Toronto in November. I've waited a long time to see her live, and I actually started thinking of not going - because I don't know anyone who listens to Amy Ray (solo) and I am terrified of going alone. To a club, by myself, where I actually might have to talk to people.

Yeah, I know, it's bull**it. Why would I do that? But when the fear overtakes me, I lose all rational thought and I just think about everything that can go wrong.

And really, I'd rather not be in Toronto by myself, navigating the bus/train/car whatever, but I've already assumed that nobody will want to go, so I've already planned in my head that I will be going alone. Does this make sense?

But it's real, and it's my own way of escaping from stressful situations. I just worry my way out of them, and rationalize all the reasons why I shouldn't go.

And then, N offered to take me. Perish the thought. I think I'll find a way to get there without him. Because I know that once I get there, get through the doors, find a spot for myself, I actually might meet people and have fun.

I can do this. I will.

If I had someone to talk to, things might not seem so scary.