As I sit here to write this, I'm dealing with anxiety that has caused me to be nauseous and, sorry for the TMI, to have diarrhea. I'm trying not to cry, yet again, today. This morning already had one ugly cry. And, I can say with all honesty, I do not remember the last tear free day I've had.
What happens is a spiral. It's a spiral of self-hate. I can't get out of my head. Today I even told Shawn that maybe it's time to consider in-patient. I wasn't 100% serious, but there is a tiny part of me that doesn't see things getting better.
My ECT doc and Shawn both talk about the progress they see in me. They are thrilled with me using the treadmill several days a week. Also, they see progress in me for my cooking dinner most nights. For me, the treadmill is just another opportunity for me to run a marathon full of self loathing in my head. As for cooking dinner, I used to be good at being able to time multiple dishes to be ready all at once. Well, now I've gotten good at fucking things up so that pots and pans boil over and other things go wrong.
In all of this, Shawn is my cheerleader. He hates my "I'm a loser" mantra among other things I say in my blubbering, messy moments. He wants me to understand that ECT and meds aren't going to cure it all. He wants me to do more to unlearn all the negative traits I've carried for my 41 years. He'll work side-by-side with me to get through things, even if it is some kind of cheesy therapy activity from my therapist.
There must be someway out of this whole mess. There must be a way for me to get back to some of the better times.
I cried again today.