This has been a hard morning. I just woke up and everything felt off. I haven’t been home in a week, and thankfully I go back today.
I’m still a part of the partial hospitalization program. We’ve just started talking about titrating me down to the lower-level IOP treatment. The past couple of sessions with my in-treatment therapist have been about finding me an appropriate out-patient therapist and psychologist. And a large part of me is getting trapped in the “should”‘s. I should be happier about this. I should be excited. I’ve grown a lot and healed so much more than I went into this program to heal. But instead, I’m terrified.
I still deal with daily suicidal ideation, which is what drove me into treatment to begin with. It’s lessened. Instead of thinking about it several times every hour, I think about it once or twice an hour. I don’t have zero boundaries anymore. In fact, the boundaries I’ve been setting have caused disruptions in my closest relationships. I own my gender identity and pronouns (they/them) more confidently than I ever have.
I am not the same person I was in June last year, or a year ago, or two, or when I started writing on this blog. What terrifies me the most is I still don’t know who the person is in the mirror looking back at me. But I think I kind of like them. Sort of. Which is a huge step from the absolute self-loathing I had for the person before.
My therapist said I’m in a cocoon right now. Which makes me goop. Which makes sense.
I’m all goopy.
Shpunkey 