Where I Rip the Heads off Something

I haven't written much lately. I haven't read either. Well I have just not the Noonday Demons book or the Courage to Heal book. I have felt uncomfortable in my own skin which is pretty much an everyday thing but the last few days it's been worse than usual. For whatever reason these days come and go. There is no explanation for their arrival and I never know how long they will be. They just come. Play with my so called life and when they get bored, they leave. I am just a toy for them.

I have been extremely aggitated the last few days. Pissed off at the air for being air. For filling my lungs. For blowing my hair. For touching me. I just wanted to be alone, but everywhere I went someone was there even if it was only me. It pissed me off. Days like the last few days,  I hate my life, and feel as if I want a different one, but have no energy, want, or desire enough to actually change my life. Except that I don't really want a DIFFERENT life. It's just a fleeting moment where I suddenly decide "ugh fuck it and throw it all away". Then five minutes after  I go WTF did I do I want it back. Which totally confuses the hell out of anyone in a five mile radius of me.

During days like these, Jigger often asks "What do you want?!" . Therein lies the problem. I don't know what I want. I just want. Something. If Jigger didn't hold me so tightly and tie me in my spot, this would be the moment I run. Whenever I start to feel antsy, whenever I start to feel like I am the puppet and everyone is attaching a string to pull me in whichever direction they choose, that is when I cut the strings and run. 

I know part of this is that my life is not the life I want. It is not the life that I envisioned myself having, but it is the life I have. It isn't that horrible. I have a home which a lot of people don't. I eat everyday when many around me are hungry. I have a husband who loves me and does his best to navigate the insanity that is my world. I don't have a whole lot to complain about, but never the less, this is not the life I dreamed of having. It isn't me. Not that I know what "me" is, but I know what "me" isn't. I feel trapped when all I want is to be FREE. I have no idea what it is I want to be FREE from. All I know is I feel like a bird with a broken wing staring at the night's sky, dreaming of the day when I am able to soar. 

And Awesome Tree Houses

and Awesome Tree Houses

Creating Things: Restoration

 A Framed Button Bouquet

God's Word...

Blues..



 Old Bottles



 and



Vintage buttons...



Tattered bits



and pieces...

 5 Sisters

Lezlee



PS...I found my camera, my grand baby hid, lol...







Joining the Frame Party

 and wow us on Wednesdays...









Restored

Lezlee

Tree House Design For Kids

tree house design for kids

It was Messi Baby

So yea Barcelona won the Champions League. 3-1. The only thing better than Barcelona beating Man U is that Messi scored a goal and Rooney got his ass handed to him on a platter. I can't stand Rooney in case it wasn't obvious. Or Man U for that matter. 

Lionel Messi

It almost makes up for him not scoring during the World Cup. Almost.

Tree House Design By David And

Tree House Design by David and

This Is A Disney Tree House.

This is a Disney tree house.

Salt not Pepper

I am not a big movie person. I honestly could not name you 5 movies that have been made in the last 5 years. Well other than the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy because that is the only thing I have watched. Until recently that is when I was bored  and decided to see what new movies were out. That is how I stumbled upon Salt starring Angeline Jolie. If you haven't seen it, then you might want to watch it before reading this post because I am so going to run the ending for you otherwise. 

Now I am not a conspiracy theorist by nature, but seriously IF Russia doesn't already have some secret town training children to look/talk/walk/act like Americans, then umm don't you think they are going to NOW. I mean because that is a pretty genius fucking idea. Don't we have enough problems without giving ideas to people so they can blow us up more easily? I can see it now. Boris is bored one weekend, turns on Russian HBO, watches Salt, and then 50 years from now, your grandkids are speaking Russian and you have no fucking clue what they are talking about. Although the Vodka is now much better still it doesn't mean we should GIVE them any freakin' ideas. 

Seriously Hollywood, stop it! Because IF the aliens don't know about ass probes, I sure as hell don't want them finding out just so Stephen Spielberg can earn another billion dollars or so Angeline and Brad can adopt another kid. I like my ass way too much for that. 

GARDEN TREE HOUSE FOR KIDS

GARDEN TREE HOUSE FOR KIDS

Why Facebook is Like Crack

People are nice in the blogsphere. Have you all noticed this? The majority of the people here seem to follow the rule of "if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all". It's a strange world to me. Don't get me wrong there are asshats and fucktards in the blogsphere, but they seem to not be as loud as those in real life. 

I have found that most people in blogsphere are understanding and non judgemental. They take the time to see the person beneath the flaws. Why don't people do that in real life? I am not saying that playing Farmville while your baby is screaming its head is ok, but I am saying that I understand why people get sucked into this online world. 

In real life, most people don't understand me. I am considered rude, bitchy, inconsiderate, bossy, insert other bad word here and that is what people think of me. However, in blogsphere I am flawed but accepted. Understood but not judged. If those are my choices, then why on earth would I choose to live in a world that does nothing but belittle and demean my every action and word? Especially when there is a place I can go that I am accepted. A place where I am not evil. A place where I am "loved". 

I understand why this online world is so intoxicating. I understand how it wraps itself around you and makes you feel loved and wanted and just "good". In the end, isn't that really all anyone wants? Just to feel loved and to feel "good" about who they are. 

I know that is what happened to me at the beginning of my psychosis. In my real life I was villafied. Hated. Unwanted but online. I was important. Loved. Needed. I had "friends" who listened. Who were there at the click of a mouse. I got lost in that. My whole entire life I had been searching for a place where I was accepted and loved and I found it at the end of a mouse click. I didn't want to let it go. I sacrificed the real world for the imaginary one that was inside my computer. I understand why people get addicted. I understand why people get lost. 

It's a lot easier to do than most people realize. 

Tree Houses Made By

tree houses made by

Starved of Affection

Your poison soothes

My hungry soul

Quenches my thirst

Makes me whole

So deprived

Of life’s sweet kiss

I turn to you

In enchanted bliss

To fill me with

My deepest desires

To ease my pain

Ignite my fire

Even though

It is death

You bring

I long for death

Like the tree s in spring

I yearn for you

Your poisoned touch

Unknowing love

Truth and such

I wonder how

I could not see

The truth of you

In front of me

My hungry eyes  see

A gentle kiss

Not knowing what lies

Beyond death’s

Eternal bliss

My attempt at 100 words from Velvet Verbosity. This week's prompt was: STARVED. When I was younger I use to write in this style all of the time. I had boxes and boxes of notebooks with page after page of poetry written. It was my way of telling the world what was happening inside of my head, but no one could ever figure out the message. Yet somehow it made perfect sense to me. I haven't written like this in a long time so I thought this challenge was the perfect way to start again. 

Amazing Amazon Tree Houses

Amazing Amazon Tree Houses

Awesome Tree Houses

Awesome Tree Houses

The Time G.I. Joe Saved My Virginity

Yesterday I wrote my reply to the Studio 30+ writing prompt and it brought up so many memories that I had simply just forgotten. I mean I have had some AMAZING shit happen in my life. Shit that most people only dream about.

When I was 12 going on 21, a movie was filmed in the city I am from. No I won't tell you the movie's name because I don't want none of you stalking me because I know you would. I am just that freaking awesome. So yea. Anyways my mum was manager of this motel and the movie crew/stars rented one whole section of the motel out and were staying there. The movie was being filmed a short ways away. The motel was a trucker's motel. If any of you are from the south, then you must understand what I mean by "trucker's motel". 

For you yanks, let me explain. The motel sat just right off the interstate and had a truckstop next door to it. There was a side of the motel that was only rented "by the hour" for "trucker's use only". In case they wanted to bring their "girlfriend" who got "paid by the hour" over for a few drinks. Do you see where this is going?

Ok so back to my movie. To say that I was star struck would be an understatement. I was a preteen from the boondocks where the most exciting thing that happened was  when the Dairy Queen started staying open past 7 pm on week nights. 

The only actor in the movie that I knew was Bob Orwig. He starred in Platoon for those of you that don't know. So his first day there I set about acquiring his autograph which I got after only 45 mins of surveillence. When he met me I was very much 12. Ripped jeans, pony tail, flip flops, black t-shirt, and I giggled when he winked at me. 

However later that night at the production crew party, I looked nothing like my 12 year old self. The make up, tank top, mini skirt, and knee high black leather boots with a six inch heel concealed my age but very little else. The fact that I was already a D cup didn't help in convincing people I was jail bait either. The stunt coordinator was a Brett Michaels look alike. I decided that he would be the one to take my virginity. He was more than happy to oblige until G.I. Joe stepped in between us and removed his tongue from my throat. 

For the next couple weeks, the crew was pretty busy. Something had happened and they had fallen behind on production, but then 4th of July rolled around and the producers gave the crew two days off. They also bought $500 worth of fireworks and my Brett Michaels wannabe was determined to break the seal that had not yet been broken. 

I had never seen so much alcohol in my life as I did at that party. You name it and it was there. The haze that floated above the motel was not due to weather. Did you know that if you inhale enough second hand pot smoke, you can get just as stoned as if you actually smoked it yourself? Fact. 

My mum had disappeared into someone's motel room  hours earlier. Some didn't even bother to use a room and were fucking in the weeds or their cars. I was into my 6th Budweiser and was more than happy to let my Brett Michaels lookalike slide his hand up my thigh. 

5 more minutes and this story would have ended differently. I don't know where he came from, but out of nowhere, G.I. Joe appeared, pulled Brett Michaels wannnabe off of me and told him, "Dude she is 12 fucking years old. Do you not understand me?

She is T-W-E-L-V-E!!!" 

The Brett Michaels wannabe looked at me slightly confused. His pot filled brain trying to process this information and do the math to determine if indeed 12 was too young. After a couple seconds, his pot filled brain won the argument with the bulge in his pants and I spent the rest of the night sitting on the hood of a black thunderbird drinking beer with G.I. Joe and watching fireworks. 

That is how G.I. Joe saved my virginity. True story.

Wooden Tree House, Portland

Wooden Tree House, Portland

Small Store Sensation

Retail businesses are finding new ways to thrive these days.

From shared leased spaces to pop-up shops & events to home-based locations,

we're seeing proof that 'Where there's a will, there's a way'.

I recently worked on a small retail shop located in a garage on rural property.

Yes, you heard that right:

A garage.

It took two weeks from start to finish on this project.

Here's a pictorial 'project in progress':

Before - during drywall:

[note the original garage door, the barn door on the ground, 

and the metal awning shown above]

After replacement of the garage door with the barn door & french doors, 

paint, and adding the exterior awning:

Then permanent lighting was installed and several architectural features were added.

[including a 'wall' of old doors & shutters to screen off utilities,

shutters on the window, and metal & wood awnings to delineate zones]

Fixtures and Props were brought in, then loaded with product.

The final result was a large, open space with high ceilings

[and large mirrors that worked like windows to expand the effect]

that is inviting, charming, and functional.

This is a seasonal store that opens for a weekend each season of the year -

and it will be restyled and restocked each time, with a whole new look.

The light, bright white color scheme creates the perfect backdrop for that.

Yes, it really WAS a garage.

But most people who came to the opening didn't even realize it!
Some asked how old the barn was. ;0)


Lesson:
Architectural elements and creative use of materials
can create atmosphere in ANY space. 
And it doesn't have to cost a fortune, either.
Less than $250.00 was spent on all of the supplies and details shown.
[smart shopping, thrifting, and Craigslist ;0) ]


Now... what can you do to YOUR space? No more excuses.

Super 8

In a pee-filled pool with semen stained sheets is where I spent most of my summers growing up. At least between the ages of 9 and 12. My mum worked as a manager in a motel. Every day I went to work with her. The other managers all brought their kids to work too and we all spent our days swimming in the pool or watching TV in one of the unrented rooms. It wasn't all fun and games. Whenever housekeeping was short handed, we would clean rooms, wash sheets, and sweep the parking lot. 

Then when the restaurant would close at 2 pm, we would all come inside for lunch. We could order whatever we wanted off the menu, but considering the oldest of us was 13, our lunches mostly consisted of chicken nuggets and french fries followed by chocolate cake. The six of us would gather around the big booth and wait anxiously for our gourmet lunch to be served. We all came from the "poor" part of town so eating "out" was a big deal to us. Not a word would  be spoken between us as soon as the food was placed in front of us. We would gobble it down like we hadn't eaten in days. Our parents were firm believers in the 30 minute rule. You know the one. No swimming for 30 minutes after eating. So we would play pool and Ms. Pac Man until we were finally released from our prison of dry land. 

Once 30 minutes had passed, we would race outside and jump right back into our home away from home. From a distance, I am sure we looked like a pack of  untame children running wild, but reality was we were anything but. While we never spoke the words out loud, we all knew a responsibility that most children should never know. Whenever the little ones fell, we didn't run for our mothers. Us older ones picked them up, wiped their noses, kissed their boo-boos, and rocked them until some new shiny thing passed by and made them forget why they were crying in the first place. We took them to the bathroom, fed them when they were hungry, and sat with them til they went to sleep. 

Eight hours a day six days a week, we were left to our own devices, but yet somehow we all managed to be "good" kids. We worked when we had to and played when we didn't. No complaints. No questions asked. When school started in the fall and our teachers asked how we spent our summer, all the hours of work would be forgotten and all we remembered was swimming and playing pool.

That was all that really mattered anyways.

This is for a writing prompt from Studio 30+. The prompt was Hotel Stories. Motel/ hotel. Potayto/potahto. While I have many stories that are much more intense than this one, like the time I almost beat my father to death with a baseball bat in the motel parking lot in front of two police officers who had momentary blindness and saw nothing or how I met Bob Orwig from the movie Platoon, I decided to write about this instead. Mostly  because even though my life was difficult, it was not all bad. Sometimes I need to remind myself of that.

Amazing Amazon Tree Houses

Amazing Amazon Tree Houses

And Awesome Tree Houses

and Awesome Tree Houses

That Has To Be Good Enough

Yesterday I wrote about how time seems to stand still for me. When I am in that moment of darkness, it is all consuming. It is all I can see. I have been doing a lot of thinking ever since I made that post yesterday. Mostly about why in my state of mind today I can manage to ride the wave of darkness. Why today there is an extremely small part of me that is able to believe in a light that it can't see when consumed by darkness. 

I think a lot of it has to do with my life with Jigger. Before all I knew was darkness. All I knew was pain and suffering. Imagine if you never knew chocolate existed. How can you want or imagine something that you don't know exists? I think this is why I could never imagine a "better tomorrow". If you never had a "better yesterday" then how can you possibly imagine a "better tomorrow"? My life today is no bed of roses. I face struggles every single day, but I am not alone. I have Jigger and I have met some amazing people through blogging. People who support me and encourage me. Who don't judge me, but don't let me wallow either. 

A friend of mine said this to me in an email and I wanted to share it here because to me, it is just the epitome of living with bipolar. 

You've had some shit done to you.  You've had some shit happen to you.  You're dealing with some shit.  Some pretty nasty shit.  But you're dealing with it.  You're talking about it.  You're articulating it and publishing it for the whole damn world to see.  You've got a man who loves the shit out of you, obviously, despite the cultural differences.  And you are alive.  And sometimes, that has to be good enough.  

She's right. Sometimes that has to be good enough.

If you're still reading at this point, did you notice the image above? No? Ok have a look because that was so totally me a few years ago. Not that I was that hot but the words that are written. That is how I saw myself. That was all I saw myself as. When you see yourself and have only ever seen yourself in that light it is hard to imagine yourself any other way. If Jigger hadn't seen me differently, then I am certain I would still see myself that way. I am realizing environment has a major impact on my bipolar. That I need to be careful of the type of people I allow near me and what environments I allow myself to get into.

Even online I have to have rules and guidelines just so I don't cross boundaries. Since I don't know when to stop and don't have someone with me that can tell me when it's time to stop, then  I have to just not do whatever "it" is that would cause my world to disappear.

I definitely believe my past environments, my childhood, my first marriage, all were contributing factors in my skewed view of the world. All are contributing factors in causing me to be unable to see that the darkness was not forever.

Super AWESOME TREE HOUSE!

super AWESOME TREE HOUSE!

Tree House In The Dust:

tree house in the dust:

Time Stands Still

At least in a bipolar mind. Two days ago my world was dark, empty, filled with anxiety, overwhelming, suffocating, and today it is still all of those things but not quite as heavy. This is something I don't think people without bipolar understand. In our world, there is no tomorrow. There is no "better" days. There is only NOW. At least I know this is how it is for me. I very rarely if ever consider tomorrow. It doesn't exist in my world. There is only today and if today is filled with darkness then it is a darkness that encompasses my entire existence. It is a pain that appears to have no end. I can't even imagine there will come a time when the darkness is not present.

Honestly, I don't think even I realized until just now how strongly this exists within me. Today I can breathe. Yesterday there was no air in my lungs. I was a fish flopping on the shore gasping for breath and today the tide came in. I realize now this is something I have to work on. This sense of only NOW existing is what has caused me to make some extremely bad decisions in my life. Because when things were bad, I had no patience to wait for tomorrow. There was only NOW and I had to react NOW. Everything is only NOW. 

Jigger is always telling me to just wait, be patient. It kills me. I feel physical pain at having to wait. It literally feels like someone is reaching into my chest and trying to pull my still beating heart out. It's not that I am impatient because I am not. It's just whatever I am feeling at any particular moment is the only thing that exists. Nothing else exists. So when I am feeling fear, then it is as if I am being consumed by that fear. As if the fear is trying to erase me and I have to fight for my very life. I realize this reaction is totally out of proportion to the situation. Most people would think "well maybe tomorrow will be better", but for me there is no tomorrow.  I feel if I don't react right NOW, then I am going to die. That I have to do something NOW or the darkness will consume me. I know when I attempted suicide both times this is exactly what went through my mind. The thought of death never entered my mind. Only the thought that if I don't do something NOW, then this darkness will eat me.

I don't know how to describe this so that it makes sense. I am just now realizing this and realizing this is something I need to work on. That is why I am making this post as a reminder to myself that I need to learn to breathe when the darkness comes. Just breathe.

Amazing Amazon Tree Houses

Amazing Amazon Tree Houses

oH hOW  i WISH i COULD gO, iF YOU LIVE ANYWHERE NEAR HERE, Australia, gO, AND iF YOU DON'T JUST FOLLOW tAMARAh'S GREAT ADVENURES ON HeR bLog.



wISHiNG

lEZLEE

Fractured Soul

If you read my blog, then you know the roller coaster that is my emotions of late. Today I wanted to just feel free. To fly and cleanse myself. I have been wanting to join the 100 word game at velvet verbosity for awhile and today seemed like a good day. The prompt could not have been more appropriate. If Andy Warhol, Stephen King, and Dr. Seuss had a love child, this would be it: CHASMS

Fractured 

into a 1000 pieces

Silent Screams

from an unheard voice

that never ceases

Falling deeper

into the abyss

Venomous poison

tickles my soul

with their satanous hiss

My eyes open 

but I cannot see

for empty sockets

stare back at me

Through the darkness

My mouth does scream

unheard sounds

not part of this dream

My soul incomplete

no longer alive

the pounding sorrow

begs it to die

Its wicked ways 

and vile charm

its seductive embrace

want nothing but to harm

Around my waist

into my veins

I feel it slither

and take hold my reigns

Surrender I shall 

just to end this pain

Cool, Awesome Tree Houses.

cool, awesome tree houses.

Makerr... Monday: Tin Can Planter

Photo from Apartment Therapy

[Charles] So I'm a day behind on Maker Monday. The good news is I found a super cool repurposed planter on Apartment Therapy that fit the bill today. They took an oversized vegetable oil can from a restaurant and fit a little tree in it. They had to do a little metal work to get the top off and roll the edges down, but all in all it's a pretty quick little project. Seems like the perfect thing for a miniature lemon or olive tree... Here's the link for the how to

Layin' It All on the Line

I was visiting Kim over at The Child. Each week she does this thing where she "pours her heart out". She did it again today btw. You should check it out. She talks about boobies and milk. Very fascinating stuff. Anyways, it got me thinking that I need to do that. I need to just purge myself of the shit that is festering inside of me. I need to purge it in a healthy way before I purge it with a razor sliding across my skin. Because that is where this path leads.

This post will probably be long and make little sense to the people who live outside my head, but this blog is for me. It is my way of dealing with the shit thing that is my brain. It is not for entertainment. Hopefully there is some educational value in it, but in reality it is for me and me alone. So here goes. Diving into the darkness that is my brain:

At the moment, I am feeling anxious, jittery, on edge, overwhelming, and suffocated. I want to address each of these emotions one by one.

Anxious: I am anxious because I know Jigger is going on his trip next month. I worry about what will become of me without him. He has been my rock for 3 years and now suddenly my support is falling out from underneath me. At least that is what it feels like. The closer it gets the more anxious I get. Another reason I feel anxious is because his way of preparing and mine are total opposites. There is a lot that needs to be done,but since we still have more than a month left before he leaves, Jigger says "there's plenty of time no need to do it now". If he had told me to hold my breath until he left, I think it would have been easier. I need to prepare and I NEED to do it NOW. As in right NOW. This minute. Not tomorrow. Not day after tomorrow. But NOW. A part of my brain knows that I really do have time and it isn't an absolute necessity, but the part of my brain that says "holy fuck the earth will fall of its axis and cows will stop producing milk if you don't do it NOW" is much louder and more forceful than the part that understands there is still "time". Being late or unprepared are two things I do not deal with very well.

Jittery: I don't know if that is even a real word but it describes exactly how I feel at this moment. I feel like my skin is crawling. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest like I ran a marathon. Even though the only part of my body capable of running a marathon is my mouth. There are times when I feel I can't breathe or that it is difficult to catch my breath. I feel like there is a huge weight sitting upon my chest. My hands won't stop shaking. My body won't stop shaking. The thoughts in my brain won't stop coming. Thought after thought after though. I feel the constant need to be doing "something". I cannot be still. Not even for a moment. A single second of quiet and stillness brings me into a full blown panic attack. I don't know what to do with myself. I feel as if I should be doing something but am not quite sure as to what that something is.

On edge: In part this is an extension of the "jittery" emotion. I feel like I am standing on the edge of cliff and someone or something is hiding in the shadows waiting for their opportunity to push me over the edge. What is so frustrating is that a part of me knows this feeling of paranoia is unsubstantiated, but even knowing that does not lessen my fear that "something" is about to happen. "Something" is coming. "Something" wants to hurt me. It's hard enough running from real threats and avoiding real dangers. How do you hide from imaginary ones?

Overwhelmed: This also brings about the feeling of being unable to breathe. I have so much to do but yet nothing to do at the same time. All of the things that I feel I need to do are not real things that need to be done. They are just things I feel need to be done. Things I should be doing but am not doing. I put immense pressure upon myself and then when I can't live up to that I hate myself. I feel like a failure for not being able to live up to the unrealistic bar I have set for myself. Then I have so much imaginary shit on my plate that I am unable to take care of the real shit that is laying around and then nothing gets accomplished and I feel even worse because it only reaffirms the thought that I am a failure. Worthless. Unable to do anything right. While no one outside of my head tells me this and if people knew all of the things I have actually accomplished within the limited resources I have available they would be utterly shocked at all I have accomplished, but no matter how much I achieve or do it is never enough. Never good enough. Never enough. I should  do more. That is the constant thought that runs through my mind.  I should do/be MORE.

Suffocated: At the moment, my life is pretty much halted. For the first time probably in my entire life, I have hopes and dreams of a future. Hopes and dreams and wants and desires and I feel like the universe is laughing at me because my circumstances do not allow me to be able to achieve any of the things I want. For the first time I have the feeling of wanting to "live" inside of me. Not just exist but live and I am unable to. It makes me feel like the walls are closing in on me. That my world is somehow turning against me and trying to take the very breath in my lungs from me. Even though my life is not as bad as I am making it out to be, this feeling of suffocation is making me begin to hate my life. I don't want to start hating life again. I can feel the anger boiling inside of me. The anger at the world. At the wind. At the trees. Anger that just is.

Anger: I guess it only appropriate anger comes next. At the moment, I just feel angry. At the universe. As much as I hate to admit it even at God. I don't talk very much about religion, but I do have a deep faith. One that has kept me alive and saved me, but a small part of me feels anger towards God for all of the things that have happened to me. I know there is a plan and a reason and a meaning. There has to be. (If you don't believe in these things, that is fine.You don't have to, but understand you will respect my beliefs if you intend to comment here. Otherwise your words will be erased.Remember this land is ruled by a dictator who is not afraid to push the big red button). Then I hate myself for feeling this anger so it is a never ending cycle of feeling anger and then repressing it only to have it fester back up stronger than before. Then I push it back down and ignore it until it rears its ugliness in other areas of my life. Like picking fights over where the bananas are kept or grown ass men watching soap operas. . 

Tired: I am just tired. Anyone with bipolar or PD will understand this feeling. Just tired of the struggle. Tired of it all. Just tired. Is it really all worth the effort?

There are many reasons why I am feeling so many things all at once. Some are real and justified like trying to start a new business, dealing with new clients. This is the unknown for me. I have never ventured into this area before. I feel I am inadequate, not good enough, and therefore my work will also be not good enough. Yet I am putting myself out there and it's scary. I don't know what will happen. The unknown is a major stressor/trigger for me. I think that is why I prefer to stay in unhealthy relationships/circumstances because I understand the unhealthy. I know what will come next. There is no unknowns for me in unhealthy, but "healthy" is foreign and alien to me. I don't know what to do with it or how to react to it. I don't know what things mean if they are good or bad. If I should be scared or happy. I don't understand them and this sense of unknown and not understanding is a majorly huge trigger for me. I MUST know. If I know, then I can control and will know which direction to run when the shit hits the fan, but if I don't know, then how can I protect myself? 

How will I know where to run when it all falls apart because at some point it will all fall apart, right? At least that is what my brain says. 

A place I long to be. A place I understand and miss.  

Comfortably Numb: