And, I'm in the middle of seeing a great-big-ugly-uninvited visitor named "Relapse".
But, I'm fighting the fight. I don't feel like I'm winning the battle right now, but I keep fighting. I see that as a good thing.
My therapist (because I'm starting to see her again on a more regular basis) wants me to start focusing on some positives; she wants me to give myself credit for the big and little things, so I give myself credit that I'm still fighting. That's big because I really don't feel like fighting.
My biggest tormentor is me. I am HARD on myself. I blame myself for things that I don't deserve the blame. I've gotten worse as I've gotten older. I think it's because I have done things in the past that I deserve to be judged harshly, so I turn this into judging everything I do harshly and unfairly.
I mask this well. Sometimes, I am a master at hiding the ugliness that is inside me.
Other times, I'm terrible at hiding my feelings. I lose control of them, and I cry or get incredibly irritable.
I am up and down; high and low; flat and spiked; numb, yet overly sensitive.
I feel like I don't make any sense at all.
I do NOT like this part of me. I hate it actually. And, this turns into an ugly spiral of self-hatred.
I've had two different dreams in recent months where I've attempted suicide in the dreams. They scared me. I knew I had to act. So, I'm battling.
Medications have been reviewed and altered. Other medical conditions (that can contribute to depression) have been analyzed. There are talks of endocrinologists and psychiatrists.
My g.p. has referred me to another dietitian (or is it dietician? I think this is one of those American vs. Australian spellings that has me confused). I haven't gone yet because I'm an emotional eater, and I don't want to be told to stop eating what I'm eating.
Therapy sessions have increased. We're even considering group counseling sessions too because I have an unbelievable ability to show empathy to others and want to support and encourage them, all the while I'm tearing myself apart.
I battle by forcing myself to continue to socialize. I am really feeling like hiding under covers and only talking to my cats. But, forcing myself to go and do, even if I'm not fully enjoying it, is still a win for me.
I battle by focusing on things that do give me pleasure. You see my slight obsession with book challenges? Well, they bring me pleasure. So, I throw myself into them and soak up as much pleasure as I can.
My therapist wants me to journal more. I guess this post can be considered a journal entry. Sorta. Except my journal is supposed to be where I tell my deepest, darkest thoughts without worrying that anyone will read them.
Last night, Ricky licked tears from my face. My husband rubbed my back as I cried. What was I crying about? That I hate this part of me. I just want it to go away and leave.
I feel like I'm letting my husband down and adding to his burdens (he already has enough stress of being a small business owner.)
I am appreciative and grateful for loving support.
I know some of you battle too. Keep battling with me.