Charlotte here:
I have my first shrink appointment tomorrow. (At least, the first such appointment in almost seven years.) It’s possible they’ll send me over for a ‘vacation’ at the hospital. I hope not. Mostly. Part of me is scared of what will happen if they don’t. I have to dig out of this hole. I have fought and clawed my way up. I don’t know why I can’t climb anymore. Perhaps I’ve eroded the walls with my clawing. Or perhaps like the swimmer caught too far out, I just don’t have any energy left to fight.
Some things have finally started going right for us. But the 1 1/2 year onslaught has left me exhausted and somewhat cynical. I have seemingly ridiculous fears. But then, how ridiculous are they in the face of past experience?
I feel weak. My response to my own weakness has always been to fake strength until I could pull it off. Now that I can no longer fake it, I feel shame. Shame that I am as weak as I always feared I might be. Shame that I am as weak as someone once told me I was. I’ve wanted so badly to prove them wrong.
Damn genetics. Damn weakness. Damn depression. Damn loss of faith in myself.
I trust God. I don’t get Him, but I trust Him. I MUST believe He gets me – or it’s all lost.
