Pulling yourself together. Putting yourself together. I’m looking deep inside and remembering past sessions with my therapist, conversations with my best friend and everything I’ve learned over the years. Just to survive.
Sometimes, it’s a daily process, especially during the bad times. Other times, it’s fleeting. Like self talk and telling the negative thoughts to ‘shut up’.
I have a hard time with negative thinking. Growing up with a verbally abusive father, set the stage of constant put downs and mocking. And when he died, I took his place. My self esteem has always been low. Never satisfied with who I am or how I look. But I think that’s the female part of me.
There was a short sprint of time I felt good. And it showed. Senior year of college. But, that was torn down by illness and boyfriends. Which is why I don’t date. I’m not a good judge of male companionship.
So to avoid abuse. I stay single.
My resources… My mother, my blog, Patients like me and myself. These are the places I can let go and express myself. Feel like I am heard and understood and gather strength. It’s been well over 13 years of therapy and medication. I’ve worked hard to keep it together and things could be worse… but they aren’t.
I worked damn hard to get where I am right now mentally. And daily, people test me to see if I’ll falter. No, that’s not paranoia. It’s called life. It’s easier for some, but a bit precarious for me.
Trying not to isolate is hard. There is safety in being indoors and away from possible harm. Be it real or imaginary. But it’s not a way to live. And since I’ve chosen to live, I’m gonna have to take these risks every now and again.
Don’t know where to go from here. Feeling a bit more in control. Have the tools, now it’s time to use them… No, I didn’t go to the BP group on Thursday.
I don’t feel bad about not going. I was exhausted mentally and physically. I hope to go next week. We will see, and when I am ready.