Through all my sadness I'm happy my little boy turned three and now speaks more clearly. He has a strong interest in and a gift for completing jigsaw puzzles. Today he finished a 50 piece one, with some help from me. In maybe under half an hour. I just opened the box and he got on with it.
When he was younger I had dark, intrusive thoughts about a fantasy world where I only had one perfect daughter. No challenging boy with a learning difficulty or autism. I strived to push those thoughts and feelings away and instead cultivate acceptance, find hope in the small steps he took towards his milestones. I relished every little achievement, even if they came so much later for us as a family. I love my son so much. I'm proud of him.
I'm bothered by such terrible thoughts and lack of hope for my own future. Why is living so difficult? Why is working for happiness so hard? Why do I feel so much? I wish to go back to the antidepressants. But then will that just be my life going forward? Dependent on pills to keep me level headed? I'm struggling. I've been struggling for weeks. Every therapy session lately has been so hard. I'm being told to describe feelings I'd rather not go to. I feel so much pain.
This was me last year. Maybe it's like that spiral upward recovery pathway, where you think you've gone right back to the start but really you're a little bit higher up and better off than before. I'm not sure. The more I learn and discover about myself, the more damage I see and the less hopeful I become.
I'm exhausted. I do housework in 5 minute bursts. I lie down and hide when I can.
It would be easier on other people too, if they didn't have to consider or put up with me. I'm too much. I ask for too much, for me to be happy.
2022-06-03.1:22 p.m.
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