Wolffe's Ways

My claustrophobia decided to assert itself this weekend. In a really hardcore way too. I was wearing a skirt that had a drawstring. Now I wear drawstring clothing all the time mind you and it usually is not a problem. But for whatever reason the drawstring decided it didn't want to be found and the skirt felt really tight(I always make sure my clothing is not tighter than I can stand to start off with)to me. So I'm getting ready for bed and I start freaking out. Hardcore freaking out. Yeah. I have to get it off and I can't because I am freaking out. I had to have help getting it off of me. So here is finn_troll being very nice and helping me find the drawstring while probably thinking I'm a total nutcase. I mean I was yelling(at least I think I was yelling)and on the verge of crying because I couldn't get to where I could see the drawstring of my skirt. Is that crazy? Of course it's crazy you don't have to answer that, I can answer it for myself. The next day I put the same skirt on, had a small recurrence of the problem and solved it in less than 20 seconds. Because I was sane. Yeah. I don't know what it was that triggered me frankly. Maybe just flat out exhaustion. It could be.It was humiliating, that's for sure. I hate when people see me at my worst.It is possible that the claustrophobia is related to all the ptsd issues that I have had over the past few weeks/month. I had not thought of this right off the bat but it does make sense. Considering that the first of all the rapes I went through was in a closet. *sighs* I really hate that all this stuff keeps rearing its ugly head in my life. I wish Danny had never showed up at Kafe` Kerouac, I wish that I had better coping mechanisms, I wish,I wish,I wish. I also wish that it didn't mean anyone in the vicinity when I blow off steam got a nice full view of my neurosis/psychosis. I wish that life had been easier and more normal. Oh and I wish my parents had picked me to believe and treat like the good wonderful girl. And mom wonders why I needed to be the person I was/am. The fact that she tells me even today she considered(s) me to be a "slut" says it all. Yeah she loves me so fucking much. She loves me so much she stabs me in the back with my goddamn kids for Mother's Day. Love you too mom.

Speaking of seeing me at my worst, I have been doing a lot of yelling lately, I've been very angry lately. I've had a lot of PTSD issues lately. For oh the last two weeks. This makes my logical brain not always present. I'm sorry to those who have seen this. But it's going to get better. And it's me at the moment. I'll live through this if you do. Yeah.