Part of the healing process of mental health is baring your heart and soul.
I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing for the last 3 weeks and I haven’t even met with the therapist that will be chosen to work with me to try and fix myself.
There is a numbness that occurs when you keep retelling your story.
It gets easier each time as you brush over it light hearted and almost as bravado.
Convincing those listening that you know your past and have dealt with it.
But that’s obviously not the case.
That’s why I’m signed up with the crisis team for the foreseeable future.
That’s why my arm is bound and sore.
I’m anxious about deep diving into these topics.
I’ve treated them like a mere annoyance for years where in reality they have gnawed away at my soul. Filling my bones with a toxicity that I fear is now slowly poisoning my brain and killing me.
How deep will we have to drill into my heart to find the true cause of my pain and what keeps triggering me to act so vile towards myself.
That makes me feel so unworthy of taking up the space that I do on this earth.
