Over the course of six days, I go from doing extremely well to a sick, quivering mess. Now I have to crawl back, again.
I notice that there is a shockingly sexist strain in the way that Self-Loathing talks to me.
I have clear memories of abuse from my teen years. But sometimes I wonder I made up the earlier memories…
During the afternoon of the retreat, I start to work on our assignments, but I’m exhausted and emotionally drained.
Monday is therapy day. It’s a relief to enter E’s office and not be crawling around at the very bottom of the pit. My depression has lightened some. I don’t have brain fog anymore. Most of the side effects from medication changes have receded, except for the minor problem that I cannot sleep. Okay, not…
Not a cheerful story to start the new year. But it’s honest, anyway.
Next year maybe I’ll skip everything from mid-December to the second week of January, thank you very much.