Yesterday was the toughest day I’ve had in a while, my ability to function at any kind of acceptable level was severely compromised and Hubby had to step in and take over for a few hours. I felt so raw after yesterday’s session with Therapist 2.0, I just wanted yesterday to be over (not in the suicidal sense, but in the please let me go to sleep now sense). Self compassion in the true meaning of the term was beyond me. I knew I needed to get myself something decent to eat and get an early night, but instead I went for kebab, beer and netflix. I had to take my mind off Therapist 1.0 and all the delightfully complicated emotions linked with her, and this was the only way I had energy for.

This morning I woke up feeling horrendous, not physically, but emotionally. I felt wrung out, and the thoughts of dragging my sorry arse out of the bed and getting the kids to school felt like climbing a mountain barefoot. I thought about WRAP. I thought about all the things I need to do when I feel like that, and then I thought about just how much I didn’t want to do any of them. Here’s what’s new though – I did them anyway. Remember I made a deal with Bitchface around hurting myself at the weekend? I did the same this morning. I decided I was going to walk the dogs after dropping the kids off, and promised myself that if I still wanted to go back to bed when I got home, I could. When I got back, I knew I needed to do more, so promised myself if I did 5 minutes of yoga, then I could go back to bed. I ended up doing the guts of an hour, and now I’m writing. I won’t go back to bed.

It was the same last night. I so desperately wanted to contact Therapist 1.0, but knew if I did how disappointed and ashamed I would be this morning, so agreed with myself that if the need was still as strong this morning…….well, I know where her office is. I could just go there and tell her. I had been so wound up going to bed, and struggling so much with the conflict between wanting to make contact and knowing just how bad that would be that I didn’t think I’d sleep at all. But once I decided that I would go see her today if the need was still there, I was able to relax enough to sleep.

This is all really, really new. I’m learning to control impulses, and some fairly harmful ones at that. Ok, so I went for the food/alcohol/tv combo last night, but in comparison to what I could have done, that was certainly the lesser evil. A few months ago, possibly even a few weeks ago, giving in to that need to go back to bed would have felt like self compassion. Yes, it would certainly have been letting myself off the hook, but it wouldn’t have made me feel any better. In all likelihood it would probably have made me feel worse. While I don’t feel exactly effervescent right now, I feel a hell of a lot better than I did when I woke up. I recognised that I was struggling, and I did something to try to alleviate it. I just practised self compassion.


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