what it feels like to be a ghost
burnt out: the most apt way of describing how i have been feeling for the past six months. burnt the fuck out.
i drink all the time lately. and not in a funny, dramatic kind of way. in the "i can't not think about drinking for more than a few hours" kind of way.
i know that i am running away from things. i know that everything i am doing lately is an act of avoidance. i am trying so hard not to admit that i'm terrified about what it is i'm supposed to do now, what decisions i'm meant to make to somehow propel myself forward in life rather than continuing to stall.
but i am exhausted. the energy required to take a full course load, work 24-32 hours a week, emotionally babysit several human beings at once but most notably someone extremely bipolar, and try to maintain a sense of self in the face of a year and a half's worth of emotional abuse, is apparently a limited resource. i have run out. i am running on fumes with no idea how to get back to full.
there are people who need me right now, people who always need me, and i don't have it in me to give to them right now. i don't have the words they need to hear, the energy to guide them through every new thing. i am tired of emotionally babysitting; i have reached a point where i need all of these people to leave the metaphorical nest, to figure out how to deal with these things on their own, because i don't think i should have to hold their hands anymore.
and some part of me wants to hold my own hand for a little while.