I feel crappy. Not a lot, but enough that I notice it.
It’s the boss thing. I’m kicking myself for letting it affect me so much while simultaneously trying to limit the effect it has on me. What this translates to is, “I need to cut. He hates me and everyone hates me and I NEED TO CUT RIGHT NOW. Shit! No, I do not need to cut. I didn’t do anything wrong. He was the one who was a dick, so fuck him. Not gonna let him unravel me. But I need to cut, I need to fucking cut. No, I don’t. I don’t fucking need to cut. I need to own my life, and fuck him and anyone else who gets in the way. But I need…no, you goddamn well don’t.”
And on and on.
And then there is the urge to disappear. Just sleep, be quiet, fly under everybody’s radar. But that’s not really my style.
Ugh. I want this to be easier. But the struggle is good–a few months ago, I would’ve just self-destructed and disappeared. I’m not doing that now. But goddammit, I want it to be easier.
Clearly I need a new therapist. We’re making progress–Team Leader and Fake Therapist have made a bunch of phone calls. Now we just wait to hear back. About now, though, I could really use a therapist who already knows me.
Not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry.