I don’t want to do this any more. I don’t want to be me, or at least the version of me that has to attend group sessions for people who self harm, or do dbt, or be signed out of work yet again. I saw the occupational health doctor this morning, and while he agreed that things have improved, he told me to forget about work for the time being, that I need to concentrate on dbt.
I feel like such an unbelievable fraud. I have no x-ray that I can point at to show what’s broken, no blood test that can prove that I really do need this time. All I have is me. Earlier it made sense. Take the time, do Eden, do dbt, get myself into a good routine with diet and exercise, build on the last few months………and now? Now it seems like nothing more than an exercise in petty self indulgence. I was on the verge of mailing work to tell them that the doctor made a mistake, I’m fine, and I can come back straight away.
How did I get from thinking more time was a good plan to believing the exact opposite? Three simple steps. A glimpse of Therapist in town. A phone call from someone I have a lot of respect for rejecting an idea I had suggested. And a reminder that my friend E is officially gone tomorrow. Instant overwhelm. My good old avoidance strategy kicked in – if I go back to work, this will all go away. I’ll be a normal person again. If I can just ignore it for long enough………
Right now, what I want to do is make my way to the bottom of a bottle of wine as quickly as possible. Watch Netflix. Eat crap. Forget, forget, forget. Don’t think. But if I do that, tomorrow will be worse. I’ll be hungover, feel guilty for being hungover and my thinking will be worse because I’ll have the bonus of being really tired on top of a hangover (cos let’s face it, even normal people find it difficult to stop at just one episode on Netflix. For someone with impulse control issues………?!)
I am so profoundly sick of this. I do not like myself one little bit this evening. I don’t want to go to Eden tomorrow. I want it all to just fuck off. Now.