Treatment

Even though I've been pretty honest about my mental health struggles, I'm still ashamed and embarrassed by them. I should just get over it. I should be able to do this on my own. I should be sane, healthy, rational, normal... Blah, blah, blah.

A few months ago I entered a pretty intense therapy program. It's so hard to admit that I need something like this. My clients at work need treatment like this, not me.
Right?
Wrong.

It feels like a confirmation that I'm crazy. Truly crazy. And in a way, though it's supposed to give me hope, it leaves me feeling like I can't be helped. I know that feeling isn't justified - because I am getting better.

Slowly.
With lots of bumps along the way.

Lots of digging at old stuff I'd rather just stay buried, and old, ingrained thoughts/interpretations that need challenging. And lots of disobedience along the way - I'll get to that later.

It is so, so hard and it hurts so much. (I'm whining). And it's a bit humiliating to be in this position. I can count on one hand and an extra finger the people in my life who know about it.

*One only knows because someone else told her - and I don't know if I'm angry about it or just hurt.
*Two aren't very present in my life anymore - and... there's nothing I can do about it except get over it.
*One has gone through the program herself but liked it, she has her own issues to deal with and we haven't really talked for a while either so...
*One is a co-worker that caught me at a really bad time and got dumped on - she's turned into a pretty good friend, but again, her own issues (actually, her kids').
*And the last is my former therapist, who I'm not supposed to be in contact with anymore.
Great support system.

Why haven't I told other people? Two reasons:
1) I'm embarrassed - yup, said it again
2) Who would I tell?

The roommates who come with more baggage than a 747? The people @ church I don't quite trust (mostly my problem, not theirs)? The co-workers who are so judgmental of our clients I can't even imagine what they'd say to - or about - me? The mom who thinks mental illness is something to be ashamed of? My kids? My ex? Who else is in my life?

I actually nearly lost it last week in session when my therapist handed me this flyer for a "Family & Friends Workshop."

I wanted to cry because there's no one to invite.
"There has to be someone - if not the workshop, to come in and sit down with the two of us - to talk about how to best support you in this hard work," says my therapist.
Nope. There's no one.

And you know what? There just aren't that many people who are safe to tell.

People see mental health problems as a character flaw. A lack of faith. Selfishness. Attention-seeking behavior. A personal failing.

Or an unwillingness to try.

Through all of this, the most hurtful thing I've heard from people is, "If you really wanted to get better, you would." Really. Really? Because I like being this way.

I like having nightmares, and wanting to hurt myself, and being afraid all the time. I like doing stupid, sinful things because I don't feel like I can be anything better. I like feeling ashamed and worthless. I like having people ask, "Do you need to check in to the hospital?" when I'm struggling. I like telling people I'm sad or hurting and the automatic question is, "Are you safe?"

Yes, I like being mentally ill and miserable.
But if I just wanted it bad enough, :::poof!::: I'd be better.
Perhaps that's true for some people... but it isn't true for me.
I desperately want it.
I'm just not always certain I deserve it.

Maybe that's why hope is so hard for me.
Because hope hurts too... sometimes a lot.
Believing that things can be different, yearning for that change... yet being terrified that it won't happen - that it can't happen. Terrified that I'll screw it up.
Again.