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There is a boy I tutor who tells me that sometimes even when he’s home, he doesn’t feel at home. During our session he told me, “I want to go home.” I ask him, “where is home if not here?” He said, “I don’t know, but I don’t feel like I’m at home right now.”

Who would’ve thought I would resonate so well with a 6 year old. This empty suffocating feeling I get when I’m in my “house” is poisoning me. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. All I know is I need to leave.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Doubt

There is this unwavering voice that tells me you did wrong, you are going to lose, you always lose. No matter how much I try to shake it, it is unrelenting.

There is an Indian legend about two wolves. The story is about a grandfather teaching his grandson about life. He tells his grandson that there is a fight between two wolves. One wolf is evil — within him is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, and ego. The other is good — he is joy, peace, love, hope serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The grandson asks his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?” The grandfather replied, “The one you feed.”

Which wolf am I feeding?

I have a tendency to do things that push people away. No matter how close I am to someone, no matter how many times they tell me they will always be there for me; I always wait for the day that they decide that I’m not worth it. I do it to everyone I love and everyone that loves me. I anticipate people to leave me and in a way it’s to protect myself — to protect myself from maybe not getting hurt as bad. I’m not really sure it works too well. Actually, I know it isn’t a healthy way of living my life. Each and every day is a battle with my anxieties of both trying to please people as well as trying to be brutally honest with how I feel and think. You would think it gets easier, but it only gets harder. I was once walking on eggshells, but now I am the eggshells. Being cracked day-to-day, hour-to-hour, by people who need me, use me. I’m made solely to be broken.