For those of you who have come to visit this blog from my Instagram, welcome!
Mental Health Awareness Month has come to an end, and I feel like I simultaneously said too much and too little.
How do you condense a lifetime of information and anecdotes into one month, especially when life happens and you don’t have the chance to do or write something each day?External things have been pulling my focus, and rightfully so.
Plus, after a while you start to feel like a broken record.
Anyway, today I have therapy, and more and more it feels like this enormous chore to just…get done and get on with the rest of my day…which is nothingness, usually. I know logically that I am incredibly fortunate to be able to attend therapy, especially on a weekly basis, and especially with someone trained in treating Dissociative Identity Disorder.
But I now have an uncooperative alter who harmed the body (not seriously enough to warrant medical attention, don’t worry – I handle my shit and would get it seen if it were bad) and who doesn’t want to work with the therapist anymore and may end up being a roadblock.
What’s more, I question more frequently whether I should be in or even need therapy.
When I was misdiagnosed with Bipolar Disorder many, many years ago, they had me believing I’d be in treatment for the rest of my life, so I resigned myself to that.
I may not have the most “functional” DID system, or even a lot of communication and co-consciousness….but does that necessarily mean that I need to continue therapy? Who the hell knows?
Starting next week, things begin to pick up the pace with stuff I have to do in my “real life”. Some changes are exciting, but I also find all change stressful.
Not to mention, June is one of my most loathed months. And not just because of heat and insects. It just has a lot of bad memories attached to it, and on one specific “anniversary” of something difficult, I’ll be out of town and won’t have a therapy session where I usually would that day.