Sometimes all the therapy, self care, learning to see things differently...feels like a waste. My therapist asked me where I could be myself. I realized I’m not even myself some times when I’m alone. I can’t let my guard down with myself. Faking it till I make it isn’t gona work tho.
My therapist is saying it’s important to change the picture after I get all the bad stuff on paper. It's hard to think of positive things and feels like a waste of time since my reality isn’t changing. I’m hoping these small things add up tho.
Why are we the ones going thru Hell when it’s not our fault?
How do I live with what I know?
How long can I pretend to be ok before I have a serious mental breakdown?
Do things ever really get better or do we just tell ourselves they will?
What’s the point of being “aware” and facing everything if it just makes me feel worse?
How did I end up the one in this situation?
What is the overall reason or purpose or is there even one?
Why is no one on my side?
I seem to be going backwards the last few days. Breathing has been worse than it has been in a while and the depression...is strong. I’m barely eating. I just want to be ok. If just one person in my life understood me, it would make all the difference.
Neither side looks very peaceful or calm. The right side was suppose to be the good side but I don’t know what it turned in to. The words on the left are how I feel I think. The right side is how I’m perceived/described by others.
I think I may be a little dissociated. I drew this in the last hour but I can’t remember what my thought process was or what I was trying to say. I’m still not sure what to make of it except that I’m pretty dark...
I hate everything about you right now. I hate how comfortable and happy you are. I hate that you have no physical pain. I hate that you went back to normal after I told you something you did that completely altered my life. Something you remember doing. I hate how little power I have over everything and how Dad trusts and respects you still. It feels like a betrayal every time Dad talks to you like he doesn’t know what you did. He talks to me about you casually like I want to hear a damn thing.