Uniqueness, ubiquity and resilience

Does anyone else feel like if anyone else were in as much pain as them there's absolutely no way, now way in hell they'd be able to deal with it?

I find myself slowing to a limp or a halt so often and the fact that it's this pain in my leg that is causing this to happen makes me think that there's no way anyone else suffers like I do. I know this is complete s**t but I'm so overwhelmed by it all.

All of you, any of you that experience happiness alongside this pain must be so much more emotionally resilient than I am.

I want to blame my parents for dominating conversation for so many years, not allowing me to feel heard because what they had to say was always more profound, more elucidating. I was a child yet their problems were readily transposed onto (into) me. A fear of alcohol before I'd even tried it. A fear of sexual relationships having been exposed too early to the emotionality behind the everyday world. How we struggle, how we survive.

My limbic system never stood a chance. I feel like the strains placed on every relationship I've ever had are a result of this hyper-vigilance, this anxiety I've been imbued with.

I need help but to receive the proper, appropriate help I need money. To earn money I need a job. To get a job I needn't be so anxious and panicky about everything that is going on or being spoken about around me. To deal with these issues I need time, I need patience, I need help.

Backed myself into a neat little corner there haven't I?

These neat little corners exist everywhere in my mind and I think it may be a result of my sensitivity. To rid myself of this sensitivity is to lose something that has always been central to my relationship with the world. To love deeply and feel honestly; to look closely and consider even more so; to care for and allow myself to be vulnerable.

But,

this world seems to have chewed me up along with it's poisonous insensitivity and s**t me out as some hideous amorphous blob, covered in nerve endings, primed for pain wherever I go.

I can't help but consider taking all the painkillers, antidepressants and antianxiety meds I'm being offered and dulling my senses, my sensitivity. For me though this is akin to dying a psychic death. I don't know what this world looks like when I'm not paying attention to it as closely as possible.

And I know not whether this world needs me to pay such close attention to it... perhaps I've inadvertently gazed into the abyss long enough for it to gaze back into me.

perhaps.