Out of chaos, nothing

It's been a while since I attempted writing anything about my life and myself. As usual it happens yet again when my emotions have gotten the better of me. Ugh, emotions, I wish I could deal with them like a normal person, but this brain of mind jumps into instant alcoholic mode and overrides all common sense. Then I want to run. Like now. I want out. I want away. I want serenity and calm. I want freedom from this uncomfortable pain that is sitting in my chest. But I can't. I have to deal with this. I have to feel it and go through it and let it tear me apart until I am at peace with it. It's hard. It's fucking hard. So, four years ago my rock, my dad passed away. He was my saviour and my knight in shining armour. No matter how badly I fucked up, he was there. And then he was not. But mom was still there. She was my heart, my emotional safety net. And we had her pension and my salary to live from. Life was good. I was sober, we lived relatively comfortable, mom was coping as best she could without dad. And then she got sick. It drained me. Physically, mentally and emotionally. I still feel guilty for hiding in my room after work just wanting peace and quiet and no other stress. I still feel guilty for not talking to her more when I should have. I feel guilty for all those nights that I really just wanted to go and lie next to her but didn't because I was too afraid to extend myself. Fear, the ever present driving force behind my existence. And now she's gone. And I'm alone. I know it sounds melodramatic, but it feels as if the weight of the world is resting on my shoulders. Some days the effort of putting one foot in front of the other just seems too much. I'm lost. I'm heart-broken. I'm devastated. I don't know how to be a grown up. I have inherited responsibilities that I don't know if I can carry. I have to run a household, as an adult, and ensure that people get paid. I don't know how I'm going to manage. I've never had to. I earn less than what I have to pay each month. I sit at work for 8 hours a day, not just doing my own work, but doing that of others too, because they ignore instructions. I have no energy to even attempt to look after my house or myself. Sometimes I want to sit back and let it all go. Let the chips fall where they may. Let the shit hit the fan. Be like the sheeple and say "It's not my responsibility". Then wait and see what rises from the ashes of my burnt existence. But no, I've got this thing inside called people-pleasing. I don't want to let them down. No matter how many times I've been let down. God forbid I let them down and be less than what is expected. My bottom has been pulled out from under me. My foundation has cracked. It's falling apart at the seams. I have no safety net any longer. If I fall I will break. No matter, while I'm trying to stand, I'm breaking. The process just takes longer. Should I smash it? One big blow and its all over? No falling apart bit by bit, but in one epic move. Still, fear holds me back from that. The never answered question of "what if". I'm a wimp. A spineless creature who gets laughed at and bled dry at the same time. I'm a coward. That's the word I was looking for. A great big fucking coward. Be still my beating heart, for tomorrow you will face the same shit again.