Worry

I am so worried I will never be who I was before Dad died. Not just in the usual sense, but I had worked hard for years, developed boundaries, processed, etc., and now I am struggling with a lot of the depression and self doubt I had before. For obvious reasons, I suppose.
I wake up feeling guilty. I can find a hundred things to feel guilty about before breakfast. There can be whole weeks of productivity, of ideas, of inspiration even, and then, as if a door has slammed shut in my face, I am left sitting with apathy, worry, and guilt.
I like to plan things. I want to know what's coming down the highway toward me. I am left with such a tangled heart from the story I know the end to.
Me and dad.
Me and sis.
It's like my intellect and my actual neural receptors don't connect.
You could liken my mental self talk with me screaming at the top of my lungs in my ear, "feel better".
Ugh.
The ending is ugly. Who expects that?