I wanted to in Journal

take a nap, but I kept imagining that my son was crying. After checking on him twice (nothing- he’s sound asleep) I imagined falling down the stairs over and over.

Sometimes I wonder where these thoughts come from. I can’t seem to shake them.

I fee fuzzy. I don’t know, or I don’t want to know. I’m blame-y. And I want to be safe. I want to protect myself, but I end up attacking others. I want to know how I got where I am, but end up attacking myself.
This excessive either-or, continual whiplash is exhausting. No balance. No perspective. I need to get out of these parts, but it seems impossible. And that’s part of the whole deal, I’m afraid. This chest-whale; that nihilistic dark shame-blame part that is.. .what? What is it doing?
Preventing me from knowing whatever it is it doesn’t want me to know.

It is a wonderful distraction.