I feel on edge, and I don’t know why. Just this abstract anxiety.
Not sleeping well. Not eating well. Spending too much time alone and bored.
Having trouble the last few days using personal pronouns, whether first-person singular or plural. Maybe it’s a DID thing. I don’t know.
I feel like things are stirring under the surface. I don’t know what, though. I feel like I need someone to help me tease it out. I need a catharsis, or some less dramatic version of one.
I need a therapist. The list has been sitting on my coffee table for two weeks, but I haven’t made a single call. I have a list of questions to ask, even a script. I know what to say; I just can’t make myself say it.
I’m so frustrated at myself for this internal resistance. There must be a way around it, so why can’t I find one? Why am I still letting myself be controlled by fears of sounding stupid or being too needy? I should be over this by now.
But I know if I do make the calls, I’ll think I sound stupid and broken. I’ll beat myself up. I might very well end up cutting or purging to make the feelings go away.
I hate how I’ve backed myself into this corner. If I don’t call the therapists, I beat myself up for not calling. If I do call, I beat myself up for sounding stupid and being needy.
There must be a way out of this. Some out-of-the-box solution. I’ve just got to figure out what that is.