To my Word doc, because I've exhausted my friends

Dear… Doc, 

Let’s put it this way, I think I have thoroughly exhausted most of my friends. I’m sure listening to my hemorrhaging self-esteem is enough to merit a little vacation from me. I need to give them a break before they snap and run for the highest, nearest tall thing you can climb – you know, bridge, water tower, parking structure – you get it. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out how to stop picking at my scabs and pulling out my stitches. So, I’m in constant need of a friend to staunch my ever-depleting sense of worth. Ay, there’s the rub. 

I assume someday there will be robot therapists or some other form of technology that would be able to take in the worries and cares of a person, spit out a recommendation/prescription and be done with it without getting mired down in the patient’s feelings. Then again, they could learn human emotions this way and take over the world, so maybe we should steer clear of that. 

Typing this letter is going to be my surrogate bandage, or maybe more like my own cone that goes over dog’s heads so they can’t lick their wounds. It’s my stand-in for the friends I’ve already alienated because my life has been one endless parade of mistakes I’ve made and then proceeded to dwell on. No one wants to be around the anxious girl that can’t get her shit together. But this Word doc can’t get away from me, so these words are going to spill from me whether Microsoft likes it or not and hopefully they take some of my negativity with them.

Here it is, plain and simple: I want to be happy. 

I want it so much that every time something less-than-stellar happens I fall apart. 

I completely crumble. 

I got a speeding ticket this morning and had a mini-mental breakdown in my car because of it. In my defense, it was my first speeding ticket ever, but people get them all the time, I just have to pay it, I didn’t get in an accident and the cop (although he was not persuaded by the fact that I was shaking like an addict) reduced my speed. That was actually really nice of him. Of course as soon as he leaves I start bawling like a little child and it takes me so long to try to get back into traffic a second cop pulls up beside me asking me what I’m doing. I’m still crying and shaking and I say I just got a ticket and I’m trying to get back into traffic. That was it; I somehow managed to drive to work looking through foggy, smeared glasses. And you know the people in the trucks and cars around me could see me losing it while attempting to drive. So, that’s cool I guess, I hope they appreciate the fact that I stayed in my lane. 

I’m not sure this is a typical response to a normal snag. I was pretty happy on my way to work today, I slept pretty well, didn’t have any outrageous dreams that have been plaguing me recently, but I disintegrated as soon as I made a mistake. 

So, Doc (that’s what I’m going to call my Word docs from now on when I need a friend to dump my emotions on, it reminds me of Doc Holliday and I guess a therapist. Now, I have a vision of talking to a robot therapist dressed like a Western gunslinger – which is pretty awesome) I’m going to say what I always say to my friends when I get trapped inside my own head, which is frequently. 

I’m going to get better. 

I said this to my ex-boyfriend so many times, I’ve said it to my friends that I think are going to give up on me and now I’m saying it to you. 

I’ve tried running myself better, painting myself better, sleeping myself better, drinking myself better, baking/cooking myself better, blogging myself better and talking myself better. But I want it so much it hurts. I’m not going to stop trying until it finally happens. 

Maybe I’ll try heat yoga… as soon as I pay off this speeding ticket.