I’m in Chicago for another week. I drive 2.5 hours one way – yep, 5 hours a day every week for therapy. Pretty sure I need it. I’m in the midst of some serious and – in my opinion – well deserved self-hatred at the moment. I come here every week because my therapist is the one person other than my parents who I can or actually will trust. I trust him to help me unravel this nightmare I have created. But more importantly, I trust him to keep me safe once it’s unraveled and I have to move on.
I’ve mentioned before that I worked with him in the late 90s for about 10 years when I was living here. I thought I was better….
I just got better at ignoring my disease. That’s all I got better at.
I got better at pretending nothing was wrong.
I got better at believing that the medicine and the exercising was keeping me “healthy”.
I got better at shutting off the signals – the red flags.
I stopped talking.
I stopped listening to myself.
I stopped looking at myself and soon I quit believing in myself.
Gawd what a mess I have created. And now, I don’t trust anyone within 100 miles of me to help me out of it.
So, I return to the city every week for help. Here I sit today waiting…