Therapy is going to kill me. I know I said I was committed to living but is this living? Not sleeping right, not eating right. A pound and a half gone in a week. Irrational mood swings running in roller coaster peaks and dips. Impulsivity. Negative thoughts. The temptation to surrender to defeat.
Today I told my therapist something I’ve never told another living being. Thirty-one years of not taking care of me, the secret finally spilling out with tears and more tears.
How am I supposed to live?