I keep getting fooled. It’s as though as I believe a little bit of acceptance and communication will fix this shit. It won’t. I’m still looking for the easy answer.
It goes back such a long way, and it’s so much more than overt, isolated incidents of “trauma” that I keep having moments when I realise I am screwed.
So I sent some letters to my psychologist and then I wouldn’t let her talk about them because the shame of having written them was strong. But she said they were written by someone “courageous” and “creative” and part of me hoarded those words to turn over inside during the lonely nights. But she hasn’t met *me*. I’m not courageous or creative – it’s one o’clock and I’m drinking beer and thinking about taking an overdose. I *should* be doing all sorts of other things, I can think of many other things I *could* be doing that would be better – reading a book, cleaning the house, doing some artwork. But I don’t really give much of a shit. All I see is dysfunction behind me and dysfunction ahead of me, and I don’t see much hope of anything else.
There’s this wretched holiday approaching that someone booked in a moment of confident madness. How can I possibly go? So it’s just another failure. I learn really slow.
I didn’t recognise the woman from the Crisis Team who came yesterday. but she clearly knew me because she said I had lost weight since she last saw me. Yeah, that would be because eating is a bit of a problem at the moment. She called this a “blip”, she said I had got through “blips” before – though as I’m seeing it now my life is nothing but one long blip. She wants me to see a doctor this week to address my medication. Somehow I don’t think medication is going to make any difference.
I *hate* the way I live. So change it then! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and take some action! Aren’t I frustrating? Aren’t I annoying? I certainly find myself so.