I just went to see my therapist for the first time in about three weeks, and quite a bit had happened in that time. I was mildly freaking out all day because I had a weird feeling I wasn't going to be able to be honest and open with her about the cutting and the fact that things started getting worse. Possibly the hardest thing for me to do is to tell someone else that things are not alright or that I'm not happy. My mom said that the best thing about me is that I'm always happy and smiling, I have been ever since I was a baby, but that it's also my biggest curse. And she had a point. I can smile through just about anything and it's not until later when I'm on my own that I actually deal with the problems, in good or bad ways.
But I did end up being pretty honest. Really freaking honest, actually. And she understood some of the things I said that I knew sounded crazy and sick and I'm not really sure how to explain it but she's really good at putting things into perspective and making me realize that there actually are a lot of good things happening and I have made progress and things aren't as bad as I make them out to be.
I keep going into these therapy sessions thinking about what she's going to do, if she's going to send me to someone or prescribe me medication because my thoughts are so incredibly jumbled up and illogical and unstable. But most of the time, just talking to her is enough to sort through them and realize that 95% of the mess in my head is just me making a complicated mush of things.
So, that was good. Yepp.
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