I just don’t know. Today at the end of my group session, I felt as if I could cry, tears right in the corner of my eyes ready to come out but not quite there. It was difficult because there wasn’t enough time to talk about it. My heart was pumping fast and I felt a huge sense of panic within me. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I left the room in the check out, not mentally but physically. I couldn’t sit with those feelings for another few minutes. I couldn’t concentrate or find my words. I couldn’t here the questions, let alone answer them. I felt lost and scared.
But I was sad for a few reasons.
- I’m far too hard on myself and quite often do not see the magnificent progress I have made, particularly in therapy. This ties in with never being enough. I will never be enough for me.
- Time is moving incredibly fast and tied in with me not being able to see my own progress of therapy, I also am worried about the fact that I only have 5 months left. 5 months to sort my shit out. I’m scared that I will end the programme, worse off then I started. I’m scared of leaving therapy, that I haven’t quite grasped the skills needed to continue in life and persevere without an outlet twice a week. I am scared that I will be in a constant state of relapse with no one to help me pick up the pieces ove the treatment programme is finished. This scares me the absolute most. Not knowing where I’m going to live. Worried about not earning enough money to go private.
- I am stuck in this constant battle in my mind of being in the comfortable, unstable and ill side of me and the uncomfortable, scared, well part of me. The comfotable side has had me stuck for 15 years now, over half my life and I hate, hate, hate it. I hate that this is where I constantly go back too cos the future scares the shit out of me.
The therapists, the other service users don’t have to sit with these feelings for the rest of the week. No wait, I had to go back to work feeling vulnerable and fragile and had to turn my mind into that of being “okay”. That was the hardest thing.
After work had finished, I forced myself out on a run, trying to get that pent up energy out of me so I can begin to find my feet this week before therapy on Friday, Before I can talk again about that which occurred today, before I can try and sit with feeling scared and sad and panicky and overwhelmed. I had to get that energy out so that I don’t relapse within myself. And the run, it made me feel better, it was hard against the wind, but i managed 45 minutes of constant running, with a dodgy knee and a sprint down the hill. I had to get it out of me so I can feel something different, so that I can sleep and focus on the things that really matter instead of these heightened emotions.
Peppermint tea and bed for me.
Hasta manana kiddos.
Katie's blog on life 