I don’t believe anyone will be reading this. Maybe that’s why I feel it will be easier to let my worries and anxieties flow freely.
Worry dolls are a Guatemalan legend. They’re small dolls who you whisper your worries to at night. You place them under your pillow while you sleep and they take away your worries.
It seems like a contradiction that my mom snuck them into my bag before I left. I’ve just found them while unpacking in my new apartment in Melbourne, Australia. I’ve been in Australia for over a month. I’ve been traveling longer. It seems surreal still. It still feels like vacation. I don’t want it to feel that way though. But it’s a contradiction none the less that my mom would give them to me when she is causing so much anxiety for me. I can’t blame her that she is my sole anxiety. She isn’t. But it hurts me so much that she is supposed to be my rock and she isn’t. She’s being the opposite. I am so close to breaking and I just want to talk to her, to vent my frustration and anger. Instead she makes me feel worse and we just constantly fight.
I wish writing this would have given me some kind of satisfaction. I’ve vented but I don’t feel any cathartic relief. Maybe the worry dolls will bring relief in the morning.