Therapy this week ended up being more confrontational than I’d perhaps prepared for. I think I had gone in doing my usual dance of avoiding the big prize stuff. Eyes roaming the room, chatter about this and that. I did mention Robin Williams and how upsetting and confronting I found that as I know most people would. It was supposed to be a generic reference but turned into more of a discussion about my own mental health. My trials and tribulations. From diagnosis to the harder more gruelling aspects. My own suicide attempt. Trying to find the right medication and coming to terms with the fact that my brain would never function normally. That like a diabetic or someone with high blood pressure, I would have to take to responsibility to manage my own mood swings and medication and if I tried to bury my head in the sand I would become ill. It wasn’t easy, I was angry, in denial, didn’t want medication, questioned where my personality ended and the illness began, it’s been a journey and is still ongoing. Medication still needs tweaking and stressors affect me and I don’t always catch my mood. But my therapist is new and so I was explaining this to her which meant I got to see it all again objectively. And realise to some extent how much more aware I am.
As we talked further I’m not sure what triggered the response but I told that deep down I was a bad person. The very core of me. I can picture it like the core of a peach, hard an unrelenting truth. I’m a bad person. I feel that because of what’s happened to me has left something within me. Something that cannot be changed or removed. That belief has been there for years and over the years things have only reinforced it.
When I get very low, I think demons are coming for my soul. My belief is that they know I’m bad and they’ve come to take me where I belong. When I’m low that is my fundamental belief. That I’ve been living on borrowed time and now they have come for me. When I’m not low I just believe that I’m an inherently bad person.
I’m not religious at all by the way – so it’s nothing to do with beliefs.
Talking out loud to my therapist about how bad I am was uncomfortable to say the least.
I think the foundations were laid from my parents and then after what happened to me just compounded it to a huge degree. And then no one told me any different – so it became cemented. Over the years it’s become my deep rooted core belief.
I feel quite down since therapy. I don’t like talking about this stuff. It’s uncomfortable. It makes me sad. It reminds me that I’m different from other people. That my wiring is somehow incomplete.
Anyway, hopefully I can push it all to back of mind as I usually do!